30 Day OTP Challenge
by Bubbletrix
Summary: 30 Day OTP Challenge, featuring 00Q. Nonlinear, mostly pre-established 00Q.
1. Chapter 1

**Holding Hands**

"You might want to pick up the pace a bit, 007. You're almost there."

Doors burst open in front of him and slammed shut behind as Q navigated Bond through the maze of tunnels in the building.

"Yeah, well, maybe if that alarm was turned off, I wouldn't have to be running away from the people with the guns, Q!"

Needless to say, Bond wasn't impressed. His target was down, but not without taking out the asset he was meant to be escorting, the blood of the woman slowly staining his suit. He tried not to add the woman's name to the list of people who had died instead of him, the list of people who weren't alive and he still was, by some cruel miracle.

"I can assure you I'm already looking into why that didn't work, 007, but currently, my priority is getting you out alive. Turn left."

Q's voice sounded tense, and Bond knew there would be a conversation when he got back to Headquarters, and another one when they both got back to their apartment. Q was stressed and tired, but at the moment he didn't care. He felt far too much like a rat being watched as he ran from room to room and he wanted out. Preferably ten minutes ago.

"There's a staircase around the corner, run to the Ground Floor and you're free to go. I've blocked the other doors, so no one should be bothering you." But as soon as Q spoke, a round of gunfire rang out through the corridor. Bond swore as he felt a bullet clip his left thigh, and another one whizz through his calf. He leant against a wall and shot back, bringing the other person down with a single bullet to the head.

"OK, now I really want to leave."

"Bond, what's happened? You're standing in a blind spot."

"Been shot twice in my left leg, both went through. Staircase around the corner?"

Bond pushed off the wall and started jogging, his leg screaming at him.

"Don't worry about the bloody staircase!"

A door slid open next to him and he whirled, pointing his gun, but the room was empty. On second glance, it was a lift.

"Get out of it, Q, I can take the stairs."

"No need for heroics, Bond, get in. It'll take you to the garage where the car is."

"I left the car on the street," Bond said, still standing in the corridor.

"And it's already been taken away by another agent, there's a car with someone from the Med Team waiting for you in the garage. Get in the lift, Bond!"

Bond paused for another moment.

"Now, 007!"

Bond snapped. If anything else could have gone wrong in the mission, it would have, and this was the final straw. Fancy technology aside, he didn't need to be looked after, and he certainly didn't need to be chauffeured away from a dodgy mission. He stepped away from the lift and headed for the stairwell, picking up speed as he pushed himself further.

"Bond, what are you doing?"

"Getting outside, where my car better be waiting for me," he growled back, pain causing his leg to spasm. He caught hold of the railing and leant on it heavily before pushing off and starting down the second flight of stairs.

"You're in no condition to-" Q began, but Bond had had enough.

"For God's sake Q, I need a car, not a bloody wet nurse. I don't know where you got the idea that I need someone to permanently hold my hand, but I don't! Get the people in the bloody car to go recover the asset's body, if you actually want to be useful."

There was silence from the other end, and Bond felt a twinge of regret in his stomach. He knew it hadn't been Q's fault the asset died, and he stayed on the line as the woman's last breaths sounded on the earpiece, like he always did. He never left his agents hanging.

When he finally made it down to the garage level he opened the door and saw a car waiting for him. Eve was leaning against the door, twirling something in her hands. Bond limped over to her.

"Eve-"

"You're such a shit, Bond."

She stepped towards him and threw something at his head, he caught it easily. It was a roll of bandages. She turned and started walking away, heels clicking on the concrete.

"Where are you going?" Bond asked, leaning on the car to strap his leg.

"Unlike some people, I don't always fancy being around pissy double-oh's. I don't know how he puts up with you, Bond, I really don't. You're such a dick, sometimes. I'm getting picked up, see you at HQ."

She stalked off, not looking back.

Bond slid into the front seat of the car, grateful that he'd been shot in the left leg, so he could still use the pedals. He started the engine.

"Q?"

"He's not here, 007." R's voice sounded back through the earpiece. "He signed off as soon as you got to the garage. Is there anything you need?"

"No, I'm coming back now."

Bond drove in silence, not needing the navigation system, and not wanting the radio. As he arrived at the MI6 headquarters he went straight to Medical and let them work on him without complaining. He made a mental note that this seemed to scare them more than his usual post-mission attitude. He limped down to Medical, a blazing headache settling behind his eyes as the pain in his leg faded from the anaesthetics. He walked straight past R and opened the door to Q's office, shutting it behind him as he slipped inside. Q was sitting at his computer, the steady stream of typing hesitating for a moment before continuing as if there was no interruption. Bond inhaled and walked around the desk, hating that something physical was between them. After a moment, he spoke.

"My first handler, when I first started as an agent, always turned the earpiece off whenever someone was critically injured. He said it was to give the victim privacy, but he never realised that it was ensuring that the agent had to deal with it alone. There have been a few since then that have done the same thing. But not you."

The typing finally stopped and Q looked up.

"The only thing worse than being alone, is being alone when you need someone." Bond knelt beside the desk and looked past his own reflection in Q's glasses. "I'm sorry. I was frustrated from the mission, which is why I snapped at you, but even so, I should never have said what I did. You never leave your agents, or do something which isn't for them, and you've never left me when I needed you." He slowly took Q's hand in both of his own and kissed it, relaxing slightly when Q didn't pull away. "It was a low blow, particularly in the middle of a mission. But I'll never not want you to be there, no matter the crap that comes out of my mouth sometimes."

Q sighed and Bond watched the tension leave his shoulders. It wasn't the best apology, but Q knew that Bond meant it, and that's what mattered.

"You going to put up a fight if I take you to Medical before we go home?" He sounded exhausted.

Bond allowed himself a small smile.

"I've already gone."

Q raised his eyebrows, but smiled.

"Good to know you listen to me sometimes. Come on then, home, shower, bed, breakfast in bed."

"You've got work tomorrow."

"So you better wake up early to make it for me then, shouldn't you?"

"But I've been shot!"

Q gave a dramatic sigh and leant forward to kiss Bond, who savoured the gentleness.

"I _suppose_ you can have a day off then."

Q saved his work and logged off, looking around his office before closing the door behind him.

"Home?" Bond asked.

"Home."

They walked slowly back to Q's car, hand in hand.


	2. Day Two: Cuddling Somewhere

Day Two: Cuddling Somewhere

Eve Moneypenny knocked lightly on the door before putting the key in the lock. She was holding four bags of groceries and a bottle of wine, and managed to get through the door without dropping anything. The house was quiet, the only noises were coming from the TV in the lounge room. She recognised the Dr Who theme music instantly. Bond had returned home from a three-month mission this afternoon and Q had taken him straight back to their apartment. Eve had given them five hours, went shopping, and was delivering something edible to their home, knowing that neither of them would have thought of the necessities. She sighed softly to herself, as she looked around the empty kitchen, wondering what they would do without her.

After putting the shopping bags on the bench top, she walked into the lounge room, her violent heels clicking softly on the floors before becoming muted thuds on the carpet. She looked around the room once and frowned, Q and Bond were nowhere to be seen. She paused, wondering how much trouble she'd be in if she went to their bedroom to check on them when she heard a soft snore. Slowly, she edged over to the huge sofa that took up the middle of the room and leaned over the top, a grin spreading across her face.

Q and Bond were so entangled with each other it hard to distinguish where one person ended and the other began. They were (thankfully, but also somewhat disappointingly) both wearing pants, but their bare chests were pressed together, arms wrapping around backs and foreheads touching. It only took a few seconds before Eve realised they were breathing in unison.

She crept back into the kitchen and put the perishables away before retreating from the apartment, smiling all the while. Little else made her as happy as seeing two of her best friends so comfortable with each other, and so content in their relationship.

An hour later Q woke up slowly, stretching along the length of the couch and pressing a quick kiss to the bottom of Bond's jaw. Bond woke too, humming in appreciation and tightening his hold on the Quartermaster.

"Did I tell you how nice it is to be back?" Bond murmured in Q's ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Did I tell you how nice it is to have you back?" Q replied, gently pressing his teeth to Bond's collarbone.

"You may have neglected to mention it."

"Oh shut up."

"We've missed this whole disc of Dr Who," Bond pointed out, looking at the main title screen.

Q reached out to the table and grabbed the remote and pressed play, and they both lay there, happy to do nothing but be with each other.


	3. Day Three: Watching a Movie

"Scotch?" Q raised an eyebrow, obviously not impressed.

"Hey, rules of movie night," Bond said, as he put the bottle on the table. "You choose a movie and I get to choose the alcohol."

Q shrugged and turned back to the Blu Ray Player, he wasn't one to argue with the rules. Unless they were wrong, of course. He slid the disc in and jumped onto the couch, snuggling deep into the nest of blankets and pillows he'd made. Bond poured them both a drink and joined him. Q squirmed even closer to Bond until he was settled against his chest, hair tickling Bond's chin. Bond huffed out a laugh.

"You comfortable?"

Q turned his head and kissed Bond on the lips.

"Yup, I can reach everything important!"

Bond smiled and kissed the top of Q's head as the opening credits rolled.

"Really, Q? 'How To Train Your Dragon'? Isn't this a kid's movie?"

Q squirmed until he could look Bond in the eye, striking green against icy blue.

"James. This movie not only has one of the best soundtracks ever written, and the best animation, but I can guarantee that the feels-trip you're about to go on will overload any condescending remarks you think you're justified in saying before it even starts. Now hush, the beginning's important. There's plot development."

"Original," Bond muttered, before turning his attention to the movie.

As much as he complained, he really didn't mind movie nights. It was a rare night in with Q and one of Q's favourite things to do was to educate Bond on the movie experience he felt he was missing. Bond reminded him that he saw his fair share of movies on his many flights around the world, but Q said it didn't count if you were in an aircraft because you couldn't possibly concentrate on anything important. Bond didn't bother to respond. If it made Q happy, he was happy. And the Quartermaster didn't have such a bad taste in movies, although 'Kate & Leopold' had pushed the historical inaccuracies a bit too far…

Q settled in to watch the film, which he knew almost off by heart. He'd downloaded it before it was released to the cinemas and had watched it whilst waiting for one of the agents to arrive at their mission destination. He was glad almost no one else was in the office, he didn't think he would ever live down crying at the end. But, because he knew it so well, he was paying less attention to the movie, and more attention to Bond's reactions. After a few minutes he felt the agent's muscular chest begin to relax, it always took a while, and much to his delight, Bond was drawn into the movie.

A few times Q felt the beginnings of a laugh rumble deep in Bond's throat, before it was quenched by a frankly unconvincing cough, but by the time Toothless and Hiccup were sharing a fish, Bond laughed out loud. That was all it took. For the rest of the movie, Bond was completely taken. He even gasped and tightened his grip on Q at the end, when the boy and his dragon fell into what was almost certain death.

When the movie's end credits rolled, Q remained silent, not wanting to spoil the moment of Bond actually emotionally reacting to a 'kid's movie'. Slowly, Bond manoeuvred him until they were facing each other, still lying on the couch. He looked into Q's eyes in earnest.

"Q. Can you build me a dragon?"


	4. Day Four: On a Date

"It's a date."

Q felt like rhythmically hitting his head against the wall.

"For the last time, Eve, 007 and I are _not_ going on a date!"

"But you're both going out tonight."

"Is M ready to see me?"

"Together…"

"Is _anyone_ ready to see me?"

"And you're having dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in London."

"We're just friends!"

"And then he's taking you to see a play at Albert Hall."

"It's not a date!"

"You know Q," Eve said as she stood up and walked to the printer. "For a genius, you're not very intelligent. It's a date."

"It's not a date."

"What time's he picking you up?"

"Seven."

"So you've got four hours until you're going on a date with James Bond."

"It's not a date!" Q practically shouted. The door from the corridor opened and M and Tanner walked in.

"Good afternoon Quartermaster, did you want to see me?" M asked, looking over Q's shoulder at Eve.

"Didn't you want to see me, sir?" Q said, confused.

"No…"

Q turned on Eve, raising an eyebrow.

"I just wanted to talk to you," she started, but Q held up a hand, cutting her off.

"If you'll excuse me then."

He began walking towards the door, and M and Tanner stepped out of the way.

"Oh, Q?" Eve said. Q turned around. "I'm glad it's not a date. I wanted to check, you see, because he and I are going out on Wednesday."

The look on Q's face was priceless, and Moneypenny felt bad. Almost.

Q opened his mouth, and then shut it again, his perfect mask of detachment quickly sliding across his shocked features.

"Well, then. That's… That's great. I'm sure you two will have a lovely time. I- I have to go." Without another word, Q strode off towards the lifts.

M and Tanner looked at Eve, who smiled brightly at them.

"Oh, don't worry, they just need a little push. It'll be fine!"

Both men shrugged it off, Moneypenny knew how to work these things better than both of them.

"Tanner, what was Holmes's reaction to the third invoice?"

"So," Eve said, as she sat down opposite Bond, who was working out in the gym.

"What do you want, Eve?"

She ignored him.

"I just the _the most_ interesting conversation with the Quartermaster."

Bond immediately sat up and put the weights aside. Eve smiled internally. That sure got his attention.

"Did you?"

"Yes. He was under the impression that you're taking him out this evening to a dinner and a show."

"I am. What of it?"

"Is it a date?"

Bond froze, trying to figure out if the question came from Eve, or if Q had asked her to ask him. He shook himself, Q wasn't one to go through someone else, surely.

"Not officially."

"So when you asked him to go with you to The Dorchester for dinner, and then to see Romeo and Juliet, only the most famous love story ever, at the Albert Hall, how did you phrase it?"

"We were having a conversation about him spending too much time at work, and he said if I bought back equipment once in a while, he wouldn't need to work as hard, and so we made a deal that if I bought back the mini-rocket launcher he built for the trip to the US then I get to organise a night off for him."

"And you decided on the evening's entertainment, how?"

"Shakespeare's one of his favourite writers. On downtime in a mission a few months ago he all but quoted the whole of Midsummer Night's Dream to me, from memory."

"And the Dorchester?"

Bond finally grinned. But it wasn't his predatory grin he reserved for marks, it was a personal one, as if he'd achieved something he'd fought hard for.

"I've never seen him in a suit."

Eve stood up to leave. This was getting ridiculous.

"Well, maybe you should've made your intentions a little clearer, James."

The grin snapped off Bond's face, instantly replaced with concern.

"What do you mean?"

"Q and I are going out on a date next Wednesday. I just wanted to check that you were planning on leaving the suit _on_ him after the play. I hope you have a nice evening, though. You're right, he needs to take more time off."

She all but strutted out of the gym. This was going to be fun.

… To Be Continued.


	5. Day Five: Kissing

Continued from Day Four – On a Date:

Bond didn't need much convincing to decide that he could, quite happily, kiss Q forever.

The evening had started quite awkwardly. He knocked on Q's door at seven sharp, and his breath was taken away with the sight of his Quartermaster dressed in a classy black suit. Surely Bond had imagined Q's eyes drifting down Bond's own choice in clothes. He was going on a date with Moneypenny. Of course he wouldn't be interested.

At least, not yet.

Bond had spent the afternoon arguing with himself. Part of him believed that Moneypenny would be better for Q. She had a stable, non-destructive job that almost guaranteed her retirement. She was quick and funny, and if she died, Q wouldn't have to oversee it. But a louder, more forceful part of him fought against this train of thought, rethinking every conversation, every flirtation that had occurred between him and Q and Bond knew that it was nothing else. Friends just didn't act that way. By the time he was at Q's house, he'd made up his mind. He might be a step behind Eve, but he would win Q over by the end of the night.

Q was following a similar train of thought. Bond always looked dashing in a suit, how many times had he supervised missions where he could spend hours comfortably staring at Bond's ass, shaped by fabric that probably cost the same as his university degrees? But there was something special when he knew that Bond was dressing up for him this time. For his eyes only. Because, even though Moneypenny could match Bond shot for shot (almost), and probably hit for hit, he and Bond went at each other mind to mind, and there wasn't a stronger base to a relationship than that. Simply, he adored Bond and treasured their time together, and as good a friend as Eve was, by the end of the night, Bond certainly wouldn't have a date with her next Wednesday.

Q stepped out of the door of his apartment and into Bond's personal space, brushing his arm against Bond's, his eyes smouldering.

"I don't think I've seen that suit before, Bond."

"James. And it's new."

"Well, I'm impressed, _James_."

With the little distance between them Q could all-too easily see Bond's eyes darken when he said his name. Q leaned forward ever so slightly, bringing their faces impossibly close before carrying through the motion with his body and stepped past Bond, who, for once in his life, looked surprised. He was so used to being the seducer, the instigator, he'd almost forgotten what it was like to have someone tease and tempt him. He rather liked it.

He followed Q back through the corridor and into the lift, where they easily struck up a conversation about the newest earpiece-prototype, which Q was hoping to be waterproof. By the time they got to the restaurant, Q had brushed against Bond a few times and Bond decided that the next move needed to be made by him. The waiter took them to their table – when Bond booked he'd requested his favourite one in the corner and out of the way of the crowd – and Bond drew Q's chair out for him, resting his hand against Q's neck for a moment as he sat down.

He smiled as he took his seat opposite him. The Quartermaster's pulse was far too quick for the short walk up the stairs.

Phenomenal entrees were followed by indescribably good mains and they both talked nonstop, revelling in the chance to speak without being overheard by someone through the earpiece. When Q placed his cutlery neatly together, Bond waved for the cheque.

"Aren't I allowed to have dessert, James?" Q said, raising an eyebrow.

"I rather thought that we'd find dessert after the performance. I wouldn't want us to be in a rush."

Bond noticed that when Q smiled his eyes lit up.

"Of course. If it's anything like this meal, it needs to be savoured."

When they reached the Albert Hall, an usher showed them their seats, a box on the second story that not only gave them one of the best views of the stage, but complete privacy. Q was, undoubtedly, impressed.

"Should I even ask how you got these tickets, James?"

Bond looked at him and grinned.

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

The curtains were soon raised and the greatest love story, the greatest tragedy began. From the corner of his eye, Bond could see Q mouthing the words, a moment before the actors spoke them. It was endearing, and he yearned to hear Q's posh tenor whisper things in his ear, Romeo or otherwise.

Intermission passed smoothly and as the final bows happened on stage, Bond reached over and took one of Q's slender hands in his own. Q looked at him sharply, but didn't pull away. But when the lights turned on, he gently extracted his hand from Bond's and stood up, ignoring Bond's offer to put his coat on for him. He turned to step out of the booth, when Bond caught his hand again, pulling him back around to face him.

"Q-"

"No, I'm sorry James. I can't."

Bond looked at him, shocked. The whole evening had progressed towards this moment and he couldn't even get the words out. Q filled the silence.

"It's not fair on Eve, and it's not fair on me."

Bond dropped Q's hand and took a step back.

"Give me a chance, Q. Please, just a chance."

"And is that what you said to her?"

Bond opened his mouth to talk, but Q ignored him.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this, James? You finally came back from a mission and organised this amazing, perfect evening together and I've loved it, but I can't stop asking myself why this feels so special, if you're going to do the exact same thing with her on Wednesday? I've had an amazing time, and I thank you, but it can't go any further than this. And even this is probably too far."

Only one thought was registering with Bond.

"I'm sorry, I'm doing _what_ with Eve on Wednesday?"

Q looked at him, suddenly unsure.

"She… told me this afternoon that you and her were going on a date on Wednesday."

To Q's utmost surprise, Bond laughed, reaching forward to take his hand again.

"I'll get her for this. She told _me_ this afternoon that you two were going out!"

Bond continued laughing as Q's face changed from confusion, to understanding, and his gaze slowly fixed on Bond's hand in his own. He squeezed it, as if experimenting something. Bond pulled him forward and they were lined up, chests almost touching, and Bond slowly released Q's hand, putting one arm around Q's waist and the other on his cheek. They locked eyes.

"Since Skyfall, I haven't wanted anyone else."

It was an assurance, and a promise, and it was all Q needed to hear. He closed the gap between them and Bond immediately started learning what kind of kisser Q really was.

The kiss began almost messily, perfect, but too needy for it to be finessed. They snogged until the ushers came and politely asked them to leave. As soon as they were outside Q took Bond's hand and briskly walked down the street, almost tugging Bond along behind him. As soon as they were out of the main crowds Q pulled Bond into an empty alleyway and kissed him against a wall, slowly, gently opening Bond's lips and exploring his mouth with his tongue. Too soon, Bond pulled away to breathe, but Q's lips never stopped touching Bond's skin, travelling underneath his jaw, and along his neck, until he licked at the shell of Bond's ear and gently bit his earlobe. Bond gasped as he felt Q's teeth, and gripped Q's sides tighter, turning them quickly so Q's back was on the wall, and swiftly took over the kiss. He opened Q's jacket and top button with one hand, pocketing the bowtie, and kissed his way down that long neck, returning Q's bite with one of his own, over the skin of Q's collarbone. He felt Q arch against him and Bond heard his own name tear from Q's kiss-red lips.

Bond pulled them back into the street and hailed a cab, and Q gave the driver his address. Q pointedly turned to face the window and crossed his legs as soon as they sat down, so Bond took Q's hand again and spent the drive worshipping it, sucking at every fingertip, running his tongue between the digits, and pressing little bites to the palms. By the time the cab slowed down Q was biting his lip and swallowing hard. Bond payed and they rushed inside and up the stairs. Q wrenched the door open and whirled to face the agent crossing his threshold, loving the sight of James Bond coming into his home.

"You never told me," Bond murmured against his tousled hair, hours and hours later. They were in Q's bed, the Quartermaster curled into him, the warmth of the smaller body a constant reminder of exactly how they had dessert.

"Never told you what?"

"What a good kisser you are."

Q smiled as his eyes fluttered closed.

"Well, it's rude to brag."

To be continued…


	6. Day Six: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

Continued from Day Five: Kissing

Q woke up abruptly, immediately knowing that something was wrong. He stayed completely still, listening for the slightest sound, only to be shocked as he felt the mattress move next to him. Q was out of the bed in a second, landing lightly on the floor and grabbing his glasses. Early sunlight filtered through the curtains, and the world came into focus.

Someone was in his bed.

No, scratch that.

James Bond was in his bed.

Q gaped as the memories from the previous evening sunk into his brain… The dinner, the play, the realisation of Eve's plot, the kissing, the kissing, the kissing. The best shag of his life.

But why had he stayed?

007 never stayed.

Q stood still, torn between returning to the warm bed and not daring to. In the end he grabbed the shirt that had been carelessly flung over a chair the previous evening, and some pants, and walked to the bathroom. He turned the shower on hot and scrubbed himself vigorously. Fingertip bruises had bloomed around his hips and he'd need to wear collared shirts for a few days until the necklace of love-bites strung across his collarbones went down.

He pulled on his pants and pushed his arms through the sleeves, not realising that they were far too long, and that the shirt billowed around him. He heard movement from the bedroom and he readied himself to face the deadly agent. What would he be like? Angry? Frustrated? Would he even say goodbye before he stormed out of Q's flat, regretting his actions? Q swallowed nervously. It was different when he was directing Bond's weaponised talents at someone else, far across the globe. When that deathly blue stare could be fixed on him, it was all rather unnerving. Q straightened his back and squared his shoulders, unconsciously pulling the shirt back into place, far too distracted to notice why it had slipped off. He walked out of the bathroom with his head held high.

Bond was still lying on the bed, toying with a strip of black material, running it through his fingers. The sheets covered him… barely, and Q forced himself to look at the man's face, preparing himself to meet the cold eyes.

Bond smirked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't know that we were already at this stage of our relationship, Quartermaster," he said, cheekily. If 007 could be cheeky. Which he definitely couldn't.

Q frowned, trying to understand, failing completely as Bond started laughing. Finally Q looked down and froze in horror.

He was wearing Bond's shirt.

Shit, shit, shit.

He started pulling it off, trying to put on a calm tone.

"My apologies, Bond. It seemed I accidently picked up your shirt. Won't happen again."

Bond grinned at him.

"By all means Q, take it off. But I think we'd probably both enjoy it more if you did it slower."

Q stilled his hurried movements, caught like a rabbit in the headlights.

"I am not stripping for you." He had to retain some dignity. But he stopped ripping the shirt off like it was burning him and crumpled it, throwing it at Bond's head. To his surprise Bond didn't move to catch it, instead letting the fabric fall over him, making him look like some absurd ghost. Q took the opportunity to pick up his own shirt and dressed quickly. He walked over to the bedside table and picked up his phone, decidedly ignoring that fact that not only was Bond still in his bed, but he looked comfortable there. Not knowing what to do, Q started scrolling through his emails.

Bond was silent when he wanted to be, so Q didn't know that he had rolled across the bed until he felt himself being pulled back by his pants. He fell ungracefully onto the covers and struggled to stay upright, but he found himself pinned against Bond, who wrapped his arms around Q's waist and buried his head into Q's shoulder.

"I never expected you to be cold the morning after, Quartermaster. Did I do something wrong?"

Q didn't respond, trying to figure out what Bond was up to. Why wouldn't he leave? Why would he stay?

"Q?"

"I never expected you to stay, 007."

"James."

"Whatever I call you, I still never expected you to stay."

Bond turned him around, gently, until they were facing each other.

"Why ever not?"

"You don't stay. It's not what you do. All those missions, all the conquests in downtime, you never stay. Why would this be any different?"

Bond gathered Q up again, and Q let himself relax into the warmth of Bond's arms, knowing it would end soon, so he might as well enjoy it.

"Did you forget what I told you last night, Q? Ever since Skyfall, I haven't wanted anyone else. You're not a mission, and you're definitely not a conquest. I don't want you to be another notch."

Q took a moment to try and take the information in, but he couldn't quite believe it. Bond watched him carefully.

"Do you want this?" He asked, suddenly worried that he'd completely misread Q's actions all along. Did Q even do relationships?

"Of course, you stupid man." Q tensed again, waiting for Bond's reaction.

"Well, so do I."

"Can you understand why that's so hard to believe?"

Bond cursed his reputation. Of course it would land him in a situation like this.

"It will take time, I know. But I can prove it to you. I want to prove it to you. Give me a chance?"

Q remembered those words from last night, in the private box after the play. He remembered the kiss after, how he melted against Bond's touch. He relaxed his muscles at the memory, leaning his forehead against Bond's, and closing his eyes. It wasn't a complete agreement, but Bond knew that he could make that change. He wanted to.

"Let's start over then, shall we?"

He leant forward and pressed his lips to Q's, so gently that Q could have imagined it, but when he opened his eyes, Bond was right there next to him. Q wondered how he ever thought Bond's eyes were cold or cruel.

"Good morning, darling," Bond almost purred. Q kissed him back until Bond broke away and sat up.

"Tea. And breakfast. I'll cook, shall I?"

A few hours later Q was monitoring Bond through the security cameras at a profoundly posh dinner party in Paris. Bond was wearing another gorgeous suit and was chatting to a man at the bar, sipping at his martini. He'd suspiciously kept his back to the camera since he'd gotten dressed. Q didn't ask. Knowing Bond he'd probably stolen some prototype off a table and didn't want Q to see it.

"Bond, target has left the room. She's heading upstairs, to her room on the fifth floor. Room 11," Q said into the earpiece. He heard Bond excuse himself from the conversation, down the rest of his drink, and walk to the lift. Unfortunately the hotel didn't have cameras in the rooms, so Q sat back and listened as Bond broke open the lock of the door and fired one shot.

"Target eliminated."

"Your car is waiting for you in the garage. You'll be coming straight back to Headquarters. Is there anything else you need assistance with?"

It was the usual remark Q made at the completion of a mission, and it was exactly what Bond was waiting for. He quickly found a camera in the lobby, and turned towards it, winking at the lens.

"I wanted to thank whoever put my suit together for this evening. I _love_ the bowtie. Bond out."

The earpiece went dead and Q could only stare at the screen as he watched 007; no, Bond; no, James, walk out into the street, wearing his bowtie.


	7. Day Seven: Cosplaying

It was Halloween, and like every year, MI6 threw a party. That is, a small group of very single-minded individuals headed by Eve Moneypenny managed to persuade, bribe, and threaten enough people that a party happened. This year, Q was promised an extra 15% to his budget if he attended, and Bond got told that if he wasn't present, every mission for the next six months would be to the middle of Canada. Needless to say, costumes were compulsory.

But, something was different this year.

Moneypenny only had to spend two weeks convincing Bond to attend and Q hardly presented a challenge at all. In fact he only seemed to put up a fight in order to get more money. However, there were decorations to plan, music to organise, and not to mention her amazing costume to construct, so she thought nothing more of it.

On the night of the 31st October, Bond strolled into HQ and almost didn't recognise it. Decorations covered every surface and he couldn't imagine the lengths Moneypenny had gone to in order to turn the place around. He knew it was only the ground floor, but even so, the scale of it all was impressive. Unconsciously he made his way over to the bar, and was waiting for his drink when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and was greeted by a full sight of tight leather. He huffed to himself, of course Eve would choose Catwoman. Looking even more dangerous than usual, Eve leant forward so she could speak into his ear, over the music blasting around them.

"009's got himself caught in something which looks a lot worse than it actually is. Be a dear and go and collect our Quartermaster? I wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun."

Without waiting for a reply, she strutted off, drawing looks from every direction.

Bond finished his drink, ordered two more, and then made his way to the lifts. He relaxed as the doors closed. Even in MI6, close crowds put him more on edge than he'd like to admit.

The underground floors of MI6 were blissfully quiet. Bond could hear Q's typing before he even opened the door, and he smiled to himself. How many times had it just been the two of them at MI6, late at night, with Q's incessant keyboard chatter filling the space? He closed his hand around the handle, carefully balancing the drinks in his other hand, and pushed it forward, immediately seeing…

No way.

"That's your costume?!"

The typing stopped and Q turned around. The Hogwarts uniform framed his beautiful pale skin, the blue slashes along the collar highlighting his green, green eyes. The floor-length black cape swept behind him dramatically as Q took a step forward.

"I could say the same thing about you," Q said with a vague hand gesture.

Bond was wearing black pants and shoes, a navy skivvy, and a leather jacket. He put the drinks on a minion's desk before pulling a sonic screwdriver out of his inside pocket and pressed the button, the buzzing filling the air.

"You even got Nine's screwdriver!"

"You sound impressed, Quartermaster."

Q laughed as his feet took him closer to Bond.

"And I would be, if I didn't know for a fact that you took that out of my cabinet this morning."

Bond's smile dropped.

"You were gone! And I know you haven't been home!"

Q cocked an eyebrow.

"Honestly, James. That cupboard is full of Dr Who merchandise which is the pride of my collection. You think I don't have trackers implanted in them all?"

Bond managed to look slightly sheepish.

"I was definitely going to give it back."

"I know. Otherwise I wouldn't have let you take it."

Q leaned forward and kissed him, and Bond kissed him back. They hadn't seen each other since a coffee-fuelled farewell this morning, as Q was rushing out the door, and Bond was still in bed, and the quick kiss quickly slid into something dirtier.

"Now, is that your wand in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Q hit him on the shoulder.

"That's awful and you're never to say it again."

Bond pulled at Q's robes, running his fingers over the blue outlining.

"Ravenclaw?"

Q shrugged. "It's what Pottermore sorted me into."

"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind.

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind."

Q grinned.

"Now I'm impressed, James. You're quoting Harry Potter at me?"

"Which house would you sort me into? Slytherin for my cunning?"

Q tipped his head to the side, a playful look in his eyes, but he became serious when he finally spoke.

"You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart."

Bond was speechless, and rather touched. Not knowing what else to do he picked up the drinks and gave one to Q. They clinked their glasses together before downing both of them.

"I suppose Moneypenny's ordered you to retrieve me, then?"

"The sooner you go in there, the sooner we can leave."

Q tilted his head. It was adorable.

"But then what would we do to entertain ourselves, Bond?"

Bond's eyes glinted as he looked the Quartermaster up and down.

"Well, there's you, a cape, a sonic screwdriver, and me."

Bond turned to the door and held a hand out, which Q took.

"I'm sure we can think of something."


	8. Day Eight: Shopping

"Bloody hell, Q, look at that one!"

Q looked up from the blueprints of a pocket-sized grenade to see what Bond was pointing at.

"I'm not buying you a jet-pack."

"But it has flame-throwers," another voice put in.

"That's part of the reason why I'm not going to get it for you, either, 006."

"But Q…"

"Do I have to remind you both that you're here on Q's protection detail, not for purchase input?" M said as he walked up behind them.

They were at, for want of a better word, a weapon's fair. But it was strictly invite only and representatives from various country's secret services were present. M nodded at a few suits who walked past and only just managed to hold back a grimace.

"Found anything useful, Quartermaster?"

Q's eyes lit up as he began to explain in detail the layout of different weapons and weaponised items he'd tracked down. M listened dutifully, nodding at appropriate moments, only taking in half of what Q was saying. When Q next took a breath, he interrupted.

"That all sounds great, Q, but what's this all going to cost?"

"Well, that's the really good thing, M. We only have to purchase the blueprints for the majority of them and Q-Unit can build them from scratch. I want to make adjustments anyway, and that's a million times easier to do if you can work from the inside out."

M looked around again.

"You haven't seen our representative from Treasury around, have you?"

Q cast Bond a look, warning him not to laugh. He changed it from a snicker to a cough.

"I believe he got stuck in traffic, sir."

Bond continued coughing behind them.

"I got here without any trouble."

Q nodded and hummed thoughtfully before turning back to his blueprints. Bond was now almost doubled over and M turned on him sharply.

"007, if you're quite alright."

Bond stood up straight. "Sorry, sir." But as soon as M turned back to Q, he and Alec shared a wink. Q had spent an hour this morning going over traffic patterns in order to trap the Treasurer in a truly phenomenal traffic jam, but still allow M to get through. Q was quite proud of how it all worked out.

M looked at the index of stalls in the program he held in his hand.

"Have you been to the vehicle-section yet?"

Q dragged himself away from the blueprints again.

"Yes, we came in through the south entrance, so it was our first stop."

"In that case, I'll take 006 and go back over it. Meet at 1600?"

"Sir."

Alec and M walked off, and Bond sidled up to Q.

"I was joking about the jet-pack."

Q looked up at him and smiled.

"I know. You're equally proficient of jumping out of flying machines and not dying without the help of flame-throwers."

Q rolled up the blueprints and handed them to Bond to put in their shopping bag.

"There was, however, something I wanted to look at without explaining to M…"

Q grabbed a staff member and asked a few question, Bond standing at his five 'o' clock and surveying the room.

"This way, 007."

Q marched off through the crowd, Bond following in his wake. They eventually came to a store which held different pieces of metal. A construction site, more than a shop front and Bond watched Q go straight to the explosion-proof section. He bought what seemed a ridiculously small amount of some hard material before motioning for Bond that he was moving on again. They spent the rest of the day looking at the different things on offer, Bond drooling over some, Q barely being able to be torn away from others. At four they met up with M and Alec, and left the building. On the drive back M received a call.

"Yes?" There was a very pregnant pause as M slowly looked at Q and glared. Q felt Bond twitching in the seat next to him and Q laid an arm on his leg.

"Fine. I'll be sure to check. Thanks."

M hung up the phone.

"Quartermaster."

"Yes, sir?"

"That was Treasury on the phone. The total costing of today finally got through to their computers. They were a bit surprised over a certain purchase. Care to take a guess?"

Q feigned innocence beautifully, Bond thought, as Q's green eyes opened wide.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, M."

"What on the bloody earth are you going to do with titanium?!"

"Oh, that, sir. You see, I needed a lightweight but fire-resistant material for a new explosive device I've been working on. I've tried almost everything else, but it just hasn't worked for me. I'll be sure to give you the full run-down once I've tried the titanium out. It should work wonders."

Q's whole face lit up as he grinned at M, knowing that his boss couldn't do a thing about it. M rolled his eyes.

"It had better be good."

Two months later and Bond got a text from Q.

"My office. Now."

Bond dropped the report he was working on and ran downstairs, wondering what was going on. When he got to Q-Unit, the minions all stopped and grinned at him. It made him incredibly nervous. Q turned around from the main screen and beamed at him. He picked up a small, rectangular box that was wrapped in kitschy paper and a bright red ribbon.

"Bond. Good of you to come. If you would be so kind as to accompany me to the R&D testing lab?"

Q stepped quickly off the platform and strode towards the doorway, winking at a group of minions on the way past. One squeaked excitedly. Bond followed him, getting more confused with every step. When they reached the labs Q went straight into the closed-off explosive testing range and closed the door behind the two of them. He then turned to Bond and held out the box. Bond took it cautiously.

"Well, open it." Q said, grinning again.

Bond pulled at the ribbon and eased the paper off. What he found inside confused him even more.

"Q, have you bought me a pen?"

A beautiful fountain pen lay on a satin cushion inside the box. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. It was surprisingly heavy, considering its size, and also incredibly stunning. The body of the pen was a rich brown colour, and the nib was a shining silver. Q held out his hand and Bond placed the pen into it. As Q turned towards the target, Bond suddenly understood and his confusion was swept away in a burst of happiness and affection. Q aimed the nib at the target and pressed a small button hidden at the top of the pen three times in quick succession. There was a small _thwuck_ sound and something imbedded itself into the target. He leant forward but Q placed a hand on his chest.

"Three… Two… One…"

The whole of R&D shook and smoke filled the testing area. Shouts rang out, but he was only listening to Q's laugh. When the fans turned on, the smoke drifted away, showing that not only was the target completely blown up, but a large portion on the wall behind it was gone as well. The rest was remarkably charred.

Q held the pen up to him again, and Bond couldn't believe his eyes. It wasn't even smoking.

"How?" He asked, his hands twitching, caught between wanting the pen, and wanting Q.

"It has a diamond case, but it wasn't strong enough and burst every time it fired, so I outlined it with the titanium I bought at that weapon's fair, and finished it off with a copper overlay, making it look more like a pen. The nib is pure titanium. And it's reusable!"

Bond didn't think he'd seen Q look more excited about something.

"And it's yours."

Bond made up his mind and took the pen, carefully laying it back in the box, before turning to Q and gathering him into his arms. He pushed him against the wall and kissed that clever mouth, until they were both gasping for air. When they broke apart, Bond resting his forehead on Q's.

"I love you. So very much."

Q blushed, like he always did.

"Well there might be a time limit on that."

Bond pulled away, looking into Q's eyes questioningly, but Q just pulled him in for another kiss.

"I haven't told M what I used the titanium for yet."


	9. Hanging out with Friends

There were a few bars located near MI6, and Q thought that the non-Secret Service patrons would probably leave and never return if they knew exactly what the person sitting in the next booth over did for a living. Even so, most people gave his table a wide berth. He was squished into the corner, half-sitting on Bond's lap, and still managed to be pressed against Moneypenny on his other side. Bond was talking to Alec animatedly about the perks of being in St Petersburg in Autumn, and Eve was waving Tanner to come join them. He sat down with a tray of drinks, which was jumped on by the group. Q looked around the bar, spotting a few faces he recognised. A team from Medical were lurking near the front door, and a couple from Treasury were waiting for their food. There was another group that were hiding away in a corner and Q had to squint a little to see them clearly, but then he smiled. He patted Bond's leg and squeezed past Moneypenny and walked over to the group which looked up at him in surprise.

"Ah, Overlord. We didn't know you were here."

Q smiled at the five minions seated round the table and slid onto a chair next to them. One of them, Jonas, quickly hid a tablet, and Bec and Ryan put away their phones. Q raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No, nothing at all!" They chorused back, looking incredibly guilty.

"Are you here with someone, sir?" Jonas asked, breaking the awkward silence. Q gestured towards the table he'd come from and he watched the minion's eyes go wide. Of course, he'd forgotten how twitchy some of them got around the agents and the executives. It was truly ridiculous, they developed their weapons that often saved their lives, but they couldn't even say hello. Just then, the adjoining booth to Bond's table cleared and Q jumped up, motioning for his minions to follow him. They did dutifully, although when they realised what Q was planning they all stopped in the middle of the bar. Q was about to start bribing them with alcohol when Bond appeared next to him.

"Hello everyone, you're coming to join us?" Bond had turned the charm up. Q thought it terrified the minions more. Q elbowed Bond in the stomach and Bond casually circled around the back of the group, guiding them to the spare table. Or possibly herding them, depending on who you asked. Bond also motioned to the bartender who delivered five vodka shots to the table as soon as they sat down.

"On me," Bond said, smiling at them again. By this point, Alec, Eve, and Tanner had broken off their conversations, and had turned towards the newcomers. Q thought it was about time he made introductions.

"OK, everyone, so this is-"

Bond cut him off.

"Ryan and Bec, Stevie, Raja, and Jonas. They're from Q-Unit and make all the brilliant things we enjoy breaking so much," he said, winking at Alec, who quickly took the cue and introduced himself, followed by Eve and Tanner. Bond ordered another round of shots and pressed them eagerly into everyone's hands, before turning to Ryan and started praising the latest ear-piece he knew Ryan was in charge of. Q could have kissed him. He did. The minions stopped talking and stared at them. Eve and Alec grinned.

"Oh, Bond and I are together, have been for a while now. I didn't realise that you weren't aware," Q said easily.

Three of the faces fell while the other two lit up. Bec, Raja, and Jonas all going through their wallets and putting five pounds each into the hands of the other two.

Q looked at them, shocked.

"There's a betting pool," Stevie said, shrugging, while Eve and Tanner cracked up laughing.

"We had one through the double o's, as well," Alec said.

"And in the exec branch," Tanner put in, still chuckling to himself.

"Oh honestly." Q crossed his arms, and took another shot. Bond pulled the Quartermaster onto his lap and kissed him on the cheek, as the two tables blended around them.


	10. Chapter 10

Q's message tone sounded and he grabbed at his phone impatiently, still typing on his main computer with one hand. By the time he picked it up, it had gone off three more times. He opened the messages and stared at the screen.

No.

No way.

The first was a picture of Eve wearing white rabbit ears tucked snugly into her hair.

The second was Tanner, wearing the same thing.

The third was Mallory.

All pictures were captioned with the threatening message: You'll be next. - EM xoxo

Q looked to his office door, just a few steps away when the door to Q-Unit burst open, and Eve strode through the room, the ears on her head bopping up and down with every step.

"Don't even think about running, Q!"

Q measured the distance between him and the safety of his lockable office, and then tried to figure out exactly how determined Moneypenny really was. He had to admit, he didn't like his chances.

Eve reached his front desk and stopped in front of him.

"Happy Easter, Quartermaster. Get into the spirit!"

She reached up and put the ears on his head. They were pink.

"Eve-"

"All the execs are doing it."

"I cannot picture Stevens from Treasury putting up with this."

"All the execs that are fun, anyway."

"Eve, if Bond sees me, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Good thing he's in Sri Lanka, then."

"Nope." Another voice rang out across the desks and a few minions flinched. "Very much not in Sri Lanka, Eve."

Bond stepped towards them, holding up a small paper bag.

"Actually, I thought I would make an effort and bring back a present for my dearest Quartermaster, so I organised a layover in Belgium and got him some of his favourite chocolate, but I see you've got Easter pretty down-pat without me, Q."

"007," Q started, trying to think a way to save himself. Bond ignored him and kissed him on the lips.

"I'll see you when you get home. The colour clashes with your cardigan, though."

Q waited until Bond had shut the door to Q-Unit behind him before turning on Moneypenny.

"You do realise I'm never, ever going to live this down? He will tell everyone. Which reminds me. Minions!" The rest of the room snapped to attention, all keyboards silenced. "If there are any photos of this, you'll be 007's handler for a month."

A few guilty parties quickly deleted files from their mobiles.

Eve nudged him in the ribs.

"Oh, it's not that bad Q! Have a chocolate."

She pressed a small egg into his palm before saying goodbye and strutting out.

Q sighed and went back to work, ears and all, dreading what Bond would say when he got home.

Q opened the door to the apartment slowly and looked around. Bond was nowhere to be seen, but the lights were dimmed and music played softly from their sound system.

"Bond?"

"In here."

Q walked to their lounge room and spotted Bond on the couch. His jaw fell open.

"Want to celebrate Easter, Q?"

Bond stretched out an arm in offering, the box of Belgian chocolates balanced on his chest. He was wearing his own pair of fluffy rabbit ears. And nothing else.

Q started to think the day hadn't gone that badly, after all.


	11. Day Eleven: Wearing a Onesie

Bond looked scathingly at his best friend, who was in hysterics on his lounge room floor.

"Alec, shut up."

Alec kept laughing. Hard.

"Alec please, he's going to be home any minute!"

"That's the point, James. Mighty 007 who wouldn't be caught in anything that didn't come from Saville Row, who's battled the whole underworld, and burnt down most of Shanghai. Your boyfriend is going to be home any minute, and you're not going anywhere."

"Can I remind you that my boyfriend is also your boss? I can make him send you out on your next mission with an empty pencil case and a fluffy Dalek, with just one good night's worth of sex." But it was an empty threat and they both knew it,

The front door opened and closed, and Q's voice drifted through the apartment.

"What can you make me do, James? At least I presume you're talking about me, because if you're propositioning Alec, we need to discuss positions."

Even with the joking tone, Bond noticed Q sounded exhausted. Q walked past the lounge room door, briefly glancing in and nodding at the two of them before making his way to the study to plug in his laptop. But after a few steps, he froze. Bond held his breath as he heard Q slowly walk backwards until he was in the doorway again. Alec pressed his lips together to stop from laughing.

"James."

"Evening, darling, how was work today?"

"James."

"You know, I'm thinking of completely spoiling you this weekend."

"James."

"You should really wait and see what I've got planned before you start using this as blackmail."

Alec lost control and doubled over.

"James. You know I love you, but I've had a long day, so kindly explain to me in five words why you're wearing a onesie."

James thought for a second.

"Unfortunately, I lost a bet."

Q turned on Alec.

"What did you do?"

Alec straightened up and put on his mission-report voice.

"007 and I had a wager to determine who was the best shot. We proceeded to shoot at a target, with full knowledge that the first person to miss a bulls-eye had to wear a onesie and one other person had to see them in it."

"You missed the bulls-eye?"

"It was on the line! It still would've killed the damn person." Bond looked a little put out.

"But you still lost. And I got him a dragon onesie because he's so grumpy all the time!" Alec chimed in, determined to make everything clear.

"OK." Q took a deep breath and ran his hands over his eyes. "OK. Alec, I think you need to go."

Bond began to look very, very worried.

"Sir." Alec saluted smartly, winked at Bond, and left the apartment. Q waited till he was gone before turning to Bond.

Silence.

"You know, Q… It's actually really comfortable."

Q rushed forward and threw himself at Bond, kissing him full on the mouth. Bond caught him and kissed him back eagerly, if a little confused. When they broke apart, Q was grinning.

"Honestly James, you call yourself a spy. I've had my onesie in our cupboard since before you moved in, and you still haven't found it. Wait here, I'm getting changed!"

Bond watched Q leap up the stairs two at a time, reminding himself of how lucky he truly was.


	12. Day Twelve: Making Out

"Two months."

Bond looked almost guilty, whilst the entirety of Q-Unit, as well as M, Eve, and Tanner looked on. Only M knew what was going on, the relationship between the Quartermaster and 007 was strictly classified for obvious reasons, but M had to agree that Bond's disappearance from the face of the Earth for eight long weeks could just be the breaking point.

"Two. Fucking. Months. James."

Bond looked startlingly like a rabbit caught in the headlights, wanting to go to Q, who he'd not even touched for so long, but at the same time fearing his eminent fury.

"I can explain. I'm really sorry, Q. I fucked up."

'You think?!"

Q almost exploded.

"I looked for you! I looked for all the signs we said we would leave! I didn't know if you were dead, or captured, or tortured! I haven't slept, I can't eat, James! And you waltz back in here like you're the fucking king of the world!"

Minions started backing away, some clutching their precious laptops to their chests.

"Do you know what it's been like at home?! Without you fucking there?! Even the cat fucking ran away!"

Eve and Tanner raised their eyebrows. This was new.

Q had stormed his way through Q-Unit and was now standing centimetres away from the cowed agent.

"It was hell without you, Q."

"You could've come back," Q whispered fiercely. "At any point in time, you could've come back."

Q closed the distance between them and Bond instinctively flinched, waiting for the first punch or slap that he knew he deserved. He was therefore incredibly surprised when Q's lips locked onto his own.

The feeling was immediate. Weights lifted off both their shoulders, a groan wrenched from their lips as they fell into each other's arms. Bond, in a flash, lifted Q up, and Q wound his legs around Bond's waist, still not breaking the kiss. Bond pushed his hands up Q's cardigan and under his shirt, noting the feel of his ribs at the same time as Q shuddered at the feeling of skin on skin.

"Office."

"Good idea."

They stumbled through Q-Unit, over desks and through chairs, before hitting the wall right next to Q's open office door. Bond pressed Q's back against it, using it to help keep Q up while he ran his fingers through his dark hair. Q slowed the kiss and left Bond's mouth, reacquainting himself with Bond's jawline, his face, his neck, his collarbone, everything inch of skin he could reach.

"James. Office."

"Fuck. Fine, just…"

Bond swung them around and they staggered into Q's office, where the glass immediately went dark and the door slammed shut.

Q-Unit sat back down and resumed working. It was what they did best.

Tanner and Eve looked at each other before turning to M, who just shrugged.

"You're all spies, I'm a little shocked that none of you figured it out," he said, before walking back to his office. He had an obituary to delete. Again.


	13. Day Thirteen: Eating Ice Cream

"One scoop of chocolate ripple, and a scoop of choc chip, and another one of chocolate swirl."

Q beamed, as Bond looked at him, aghast.

"Mango sorbet, thanks," he ordered for himself, watching Q's eyes light up as the woman behind the counter started constructing Q's death by sugar.

"This is the best ice cream place in London," Q had claimed, reassuring Bond they weren't wasting their time as he'd dragged the agent out of their apartment. Bond had gone, not entirely unwillingly, because it made Q happy. As they walked through Regents Park on the rare sunny afternoon, both lapping at their ice creams, Bond couldn't help but smile. Q was demonstrating his knowledge on basically everything, pointing out different trees and flowers, even going into in depth detail about why squirrels had fluffy tails, before Bond sat him down on a bench, halting the somewhat one-sided conversation.

"You know, Q, when you asked if I liked ice cream-"

"You're eating sorbet, not ice cream, James. It doesn't even constitute as dairy."

"Whatever. When you asked me, I thought you definitely had something else in mind."

Q glanced up at him, green eyes hovering over the ice cream cone as he took in Bond's meaning. Then, keeping eye-contact, opened his mouth and licked the whole way around the cone, before stretching his lips around the three scoops and pulling it back out of his mouth with an obscene noise, allowing loose a small moan.

Bond couldn't take his eyes off him, and was becoming very aware of how tight his jeans were. Bond stood up and grabbed Q's spare hand, marching them both home, Q making increasingly lewd gestures the whole way.


	14. Day Fourteen: Genderswapped

The tapping of keyboards, like falling rain, was a constant in Q-Unit. So much so, that it not only blended in with the background, it _was_ the background and therefore was only noticed when it was absent. Q was standing at the main screen, monitoring 005's progress in front of her. It wasn't a hazardous mission, and she could hear her minion's tapping away behind her.

It happened in a second.

Complete silence, broken only by the click of extraordinarily high heels.

Q turned around and her breath got stuck in her throat.

007 strode towards her, hips swinging slightly, accentuating the already accentuated curves, those perfect curves that Q wanted in her office. Ten minutes ago. With the door closed.

It wasn't a honeypot mission, but it was held in one of the finest ballrooms in Europe, so Bond was dressed appropriately. Even in her supposedly foot-high heels, the dress brushed along the floor behind her. It was sleek and sexy and oh-so fitting, backless, clinging around her chest and legs. She was literally dressed to kill. Almost… Q gave her partner a once-over. Professionally of course, causing the first words to be said since Bond graced the room.

"007. You haven't got your weapons on."

007 furrowed her brow, pouting her red lips, and widened her shadowed eyes in a ridiculously innocent expression.

"Quartermaster. I'm so glad you're here. I was trying to get all of them on, but I'm afraid I can't figure out the strap on the knife holster. Could you give me a hand?"

Bond floated past Q whilst she talked, heading straight into Q's office.

"I'll give you two," Q said under her breath before handing 005 over to R and following her girlfriend in, closing the door, not believing how she could still be the person this beautiful creature came back to after every mission.

"Holy shit, you look stunning! I almost don't want to let you go now."

Bond grinned.

"You're the one who chose the dress. I'm serious about this knife, though, it's a monster. Help?"

"The knife that needs to be strapped to your upper, inner thigh, Bond? Not your smoothest line."

"Q?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."


	15. Day Fifteen: Wearing Different Clothing

"Remind me again why you have to be at work three hours before the meeting actually starts?" Bond rolled over and pressed himself into the warmth Q had left in the sheets. It was ridiculously early and Q was making far too much noise.

"Because, Bond," Q's voice echoed from the bathroom. "M, Tanner, and I have to go over the plan again, so we'll get the extra funding."

"Is it going to be used to make me something explosive?"

"It depends," Q said, walking back into the bedroom. "If I make it, will you bring it back?"

Bond opened his eyes, ready to give a justifiably sarcastic reply, but the words died on his tongue. He gaped at Q, who looked back innocently.

"Q."

"Yes?"

"What are you wearing?"

Q tilted his head to the side, looking concerned.

"James, on average you wear suits six days of the week. You're telling me that you can't recognise one as soon as they're on someone else?"

Bond didn't have a reply.

Q looked gorgeous.

The suit was pristine, perfectly tailored to his lithe body, the dark grey material looked endless and striking against Q's pale skin. Bond's eyes were drawn to everything at once and he suddenly felt much more awake. Q walked over to him, and Bond groaned as the suit whispered when it moved. Q bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll see you later today. I need you in at noon to test a new pistol."

He turned towards the door, and Bond's hand flashed out, catching Q's fingertips, pulling him backwards and catching his waist as he fell.

"You're not going anywhere."

Q didn't slam the front door, but it was a close thing. Everything that could have gone wrong today had, and he wanted to eat dinner without cooking it, have cups of tea magically appear in his hands, and watch a season of Dr Who without moving from the couch. Where was…

"Evening, Q."

Ah.

Bond's voice sounded from the lounge room. Without being asked, Q started talking, flicking the switch on the kettle.

"I'm going to kill someone, James. Honest to God, I'm going to find the first weapon I can get my hands on and I'm going to kill someone. I'm going to kill the next person who erases my blueprints, or sets fire to a prototype, or turns up the heating near my computers. The next person who sends me an email labelled 'Important' and doesn't contain anything which immediately threatens someone's life is going to find that they hit red lights for the rest of their life. It will take hours for them to get home. It will take hours for them to get around the block."

Two arms wrapped around him, and he felt Bond's warmth press from his calves to his neck. He exhaled deeply and leant backwards.

"Bad day?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Q turned around, fully prepared to snog Bond for a while, but froze before their lips touched. Q blinked. And looked again. And blinked again.

"James."

"Yes?"

"Are you wearing denim?"

Bond looked down at himself.

"I'm wearing jeans, yes."

"And I haven't seen that shirt before."

"Haven't you?"

It was black and could have been painted on, marking out Bond's muscular chest perfectly. The jeans couldn't have fit better, either, and Q found himself staring.

"The kettle's boiled, Q."

Q grabbed a handful of the shirt – how was there even enough material to do that? – and started dragging Bond up the corridor.

"Not having tea, then?"

"Nope."

"But you had a stressful day!"

"And we are definitely going to fix that."


	16. Day Sixteen: Morning Rituals

p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Bond and Q didn't have an early morning ritual, as such. Unless the ritual was inconsistency, in which case, they aced it four times out of five./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"5./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Bond was going to break Q's phone. For the fourth morning in a row, it had incessantly rung before five in the morning, waking him and Q up to whatever international crisis was under way. Q would answer it dutifully and fall out of bed, sometimes showering before getting dressed if there was time, and left to go to the office. If it was bad enough, Bond would accompany him. The mornings where he went back to sleep and woke up to Q's cold pillow and an empty apartment were amongst the worst. He loved waking up to Q snuggled into him. There just wasn't a better way to start the day./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"4./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Q woke slowly out of a very good dream, filled with Bond's hands and lips, touching everywhere, kissing everything. He rolled over on the mattress, fully prepared to wake Bond up and finish what the dream started, but his hand hit the empty side of the bed and he felt disappointment wash through him. Of course, James was in Turkey. Or Kazakhstan. Or Andorra. Or some other equally far away country, completing a mission that kept him away from Q. Q sighed, and looked at the time. Well, if he couldn't be with Bond, he could at least get to work and be there when the agent woke up. He staggered out of bed and turned on the shower. Cold./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"3./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Bond understood the necessities of Q's job. It was important, he knew, that Q was one hundred percent focused, available at all times, on the scene permanently in case something went disastrously wrong. But the inevitable all-nighters had crept to almost three nights a week and he was seriously considering mutiny when he found Q asleep in his office, again. It didn't help that the plate of food was untouched. He gently shook Q's shoulder, who awoke and jumped out of his chair in a second, picking up a conversation he'd been having when he fell asleep./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""If we counteract the gravitation towards the centre, we can easily maintain the balance, R. Have you tried aluminium foil...?" Q trailed off and looked around, seemingly lost./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Right," Bond said. "Home we go."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"2./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Q nodded at the night-staff in Medical. He knew them all by their first names, and appreciated the fact that they never kicked him out after visiting hours. Bond hadn't woken up yet, but would at any time, and Q was waiting, like he always did. It wasn't anything too serious, a few fractured ribs and a slight concussion, and the nurse assured him that Mr Bond would be fine if Q wanted to go home, but Q stayed where he was, sitting in his chair, guarding his agent even when he was on home soil. Just waiting./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"1./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Q woke to the feeling of a pair of very familiar lips tracing his spine. Fingers played across his stomach, underneath his shirt, and a muscled leg was wrapped around his thighs. He shuddered as the lips stopped and sucked at a point just below his ribcage./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Good morning, Q."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Q turned slowly, the sunlight peeking through the curtain outlining Bond's smiling face. He reached out and ran his hand from Bond's temple, down to his jaw. Bond leant into it and closed his eyes, so Q leaned forward and kissed him./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Bond kissed him back, languidly at first, but with growing enthusiasm that soon had Q panting./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""James," Q whispered, and Bond pulled Q on top of him, holding him tightly, pressing them together./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""No world disasters," Bond said, kissing the corner of Q's mouth before moving down. "No alarms," he grazed Q's jugular before going sideways. "No injuries," he sucked on Q's earlobe, memorising the gasp before moving on. "Just you," he bit Q's collarbone, bringing forth a cry. "And me."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Q couldn't think of a better way to begin the morning./p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Bond and Q didn't have a morning ritual. They often didn't even have mornings. But when they did, it was perfect./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p 


	17. Day Seventeen: Spooning

"And we can't light a fire."

"Nope."

"And there's no heating."

"Generally not in a wooden cabin, Q."

"And there's a blizzard."

"You're remarkably observant."

Bond was barricading them into their flimsy shelter, pushing the minimal furniture against the doors and windows. Q was standing in the middle of the floor with his arms wrapped around him. He was freezing.

"At least we won't be found," Bond said, turning around and giving Q a quick smile.

"Yes, because our pursuers have a nice, toasty warm, solid house with heating and food and probably hot chocolate which ensures their immediate survival, and complete use of their fingers when the snow dies down."

Bond covered up the windows with some hole-ridden blankets they'd found in a trunk and blocked out the whirling white storm outside. Q was worried. He only got touchy when he was anxious about something. It couldn't be the mission, Q had been accompanied him before and was calm even when they were getting shot at, and he knew Q didn't have a problem with small buildings, so that left the snow.

"It snows in London, too, Q," Bond said, cutting to the chase. Q blinked at him.

"Yes, James, but I have gloves in London."

Bond knew that, too. Q was never seen without them whenever he had to go outside for more than a minute.

"You're worried about your hands?"

Q tightened his grip on himself and didn't answer.

"OK."

Bond walked over, carrying the most intact blanket and wrapped it around himself and Q, pressing their chests together. He extricated Q's hands from under his arms and blew hot air on them, rubbing them between his own.

_Bloody hell, they really are frozen._

He took the blanket off them, ignoring Q's protest, and tugged Q onto the ground. Soon, he'd made a cocoon around the both of them, and pulled Q into him. Q muttered something about not being able to breathe and rolled over, until his back lined Bond's front. They fit together perfectly, something Bond always loved about them. It was just right. Bond's arms held Q as if he would never let go, and his hands stayed around Q's precious two, protecting the genius's tools from the subzero elements.

They woke up to a delighted burst of laughter and Bond was on his feet, gun aimed, before Q opened his eyes. One of the blankets had slipped and a corner of the window was showing. Bond almost shot the face that was peering in before he recognised 006. Bond stomped over to the door and quickly disassembled his barricade. Alec stepped through the door.

"Goodness, Bond, we let you have a night's rest on a mission and I find you cuddling the Quartermaster. I'll have to write this into my report, I'm afraid."

006 smoothly avoided Bond's kidney-jab and held up something for Q, who took it, and slipped his gloves on.

"Let's you get back to sunny, sunny London!"

Bond rolled his eyes, and followed his best friend and his lover out the door.


	18. Day Eighteen: Doing Something Together

Bond eyed the board.

"Q, 'qat' isn't a word."

"Yes it is, and it's on a triple word score. 36 points to me."

"It's not a word!"

"James, it's the leaves of an Arabian shrub, and the only word in the dictionary that starts with a 'Q' that isn't followed by a 'U'. Believe me, I would know."

Bond sighed.

"Fine."

Bond was treading carefully. He could play chess, he could play Monopoly, and Q never beat him at Cluedo, but Scrabble was Q's game, and this was the first time Bond was in the lead. He lay down 'onyx' and wrote down his score. Q met his eyes over the board and smiled slowly. Bond knew that he was going to lose. Q lay down 'yak', and Bond changed tactics.

"Kiss, James?"

"I know for a fact that it's in the dictionary."

Q hummed to himself and rearranged a few tiles before laying out 'isle'. It was a pitiful score, but at least it was something. Bond came back with 'lick'. Q raised an eyebrow.

A 'touch', 'stroke', 'wet', and 'groan' later, and Q was grinding his teeth. Bond was cheating, he must be, but Q didn't know how. He watched the spy carefully as he picked up his last few tiles and flipped them over.

"Thrust."

"Relating to the propulsive force of a jet or rocket engine, of course, dearest Quartermaster."

"Bond," Q growled. He looked at his tiles, and back at the board. "I can't go."

Bond was doing a remarkable job of looking innocent.

"You can do a change-over with the ones the bag."

"There's none left in the bag."

"So what happens now?"

"The game stops and we add up the total, and then I subtract the points from my remaining tiles."

Bond nodded handed the score sheet over to Q, who glanced at it, and seemed abruptly taken aback.

"The verdict, Q?"

"You've got 365, I have 370."

"And your leftover letters?"

Q mumbled something under his breath, forgetting Bond could read lips.

"Language, Q," he admonished playfully, earning him a dark look.

"Six."

"Sorry?"

"Six points. You beat me. By a point."

Bond tried his hardest not to break out into a song and dance. It wouldn't have been fair on poor Q who looked quite put out.

"But I'm good at Scrabble, James!"

Bond knew Q wasn't being a bad loser. He had his Facts of Life, and the fact that he was unbeatable in Scrabble was one of them. Unfortunately for Q, he was also sitting in front of a window Bond had cleaned that morning. It was amazing how reflective glass could be. Bond reached out to Q and brushed his neck with his lips, barely touching the skin.

"You are very good at Scrabble, darling Q. And, for some reason, that game has given me some truly interesting ideas for what we could do next."

"Oh?" Q tried to sound offhand, but the shudder in his voice gave him away.

"Mmm, something where we both win."

Bond licked over the shell of Q's ear and caught him as he fell forward. Bond leant in close so his whisper could be heard over Q's breaths.

"And I'll even let you win first."


	19. Day Nineteen: In Formal Wear

Inspections.

Everyone at MI6 despised them. M was even more sullen for days beforehand, and usually after as well, Eve got snappy, and even Tanner's cheer was dampened. But no one, absolutely no one, hated them as much as Q.

Bond asked him why one fateful day in Q-Unit. He was lounging about, being generally distracting, when the question slipped out. Minions started retreating, throwing him uncharacteristically dark looks, and 003, who had just walked in the door, promptly turned around and walked out again. Q turned around slowly.

"What's not to hate? I have to dress up for a bunch of old fools who stop me from doing my work, my job, for a whole twelve hours as the executive branch collectively grovels at them. Everyone wants to be in espionage. They romanticise it, and we have to play to their weaknesses and love of what they think being a spy means just to ensure that they're on our side, when we're trying to save them anyway. But, being the Quartermaster, I have to remain polite as they consistently admonish all my efforts purely for the fact that my job is more fun than theirs."

Q had promptly returned back to his computer and Bond silently got him another cup of tea.

Later that evening, when they were curled in bed together, Q admitted something else.

"I wish you could be there, James. I could deal with all of it so much better if I knew that you could be behind them, making faces or something."

"Is there a reason why I can't be?"

Q huffed.

"You're a spy. No one's meant to be able to recognise you. The politicians actually ask for the spies to be absent so they aren't able to give any information regarding your identities if they happen to be captured and asked."

"That sounds incredibly far-fetched."

"It's the rules," Q said with a sigh.

Bond held him tighter and they went to sleep.

Q left the next morning, dressed in a suit, wishing he was going anywhere except the office. Bond wished him good luck and waited until he heard the front door shut before jumping out of bed and into the shower.

"So tell me, Q. What exactly do these prototypes mean to the British people? What's the purpose in spending all this money on such a simple contraption?"

Q almost bit his tongue off trying not to say 'Because it's what keeps my agents safe, you pig-headed moron', but M was shooting him a warning look, so Q smiled and began to explain, in very small words, just like the last six times. Eventually the man eventually nodded and waved Q on to the next part of the tour. Q gestured towards a group of minions standing off to the side, dressed in suits of their own, to put away the prototypes, and almost turned around, but a distinctive flash of blue caught his eye. He looked at the minions again, and his jaw almost dropped open as one of them came forward and gathered the objects on the bench.

It was Bond.

The politician smiled at him.

M forgot how to breathe.

"And who are you?"

"This," Q said, "is James, a staff member of the Q-Unit. He specialises in the testing of the prototypes and is competent in everything from explosives to gasses."

Bond nodded courteously, keeping his head down, seemingly overawed by the suits surrounding him.

"I'm glad there are qualified people on the job."

"Otherwise London wouldn't be standing, you idiot," Q thought, but kept his mouth shut.

"Sir," Bond said, before stepping back with an arm full of metal.

M pressed the group on, obviously trying to get them as far away as Bond as possible, and Q had time to receive a wink from the agent before following them away.

As soon as their stereotypically fancy cars had driven off MI6 property, Q went straight to his office. Bond was lying on the couch, looking comfortable. Q closed the door.

"I need to go to M's office, so he can give me a royal ass-whipping, and probably another lecture on how I should be able to control you, but I just want you to know that I have never loved you more than I do right now and you made my day a million times better."

Bond stood up smoothly.

"In which case, mission complete."

Q kissed him on the mouth, reminded him about picking up milk on his way home, and bounced out the door.

Some days, there was nothing better than dating a spy who didn't follow the rules.


	20. Day Twenty - Dancing

Bond was livid. Q had to go on a quick-shot mission. He wouldn't leave London, he would be right next to 006 – the only other agent Bond would trust to protect Q – but while Q was in the field, Bond was in Argentina. He argued with M, and Tanner, and R, and even Eve, but none of them could do a thing, apart from making sure 006 was there for the whole time, and hooking him up to the cameras and comms so he could at least watch on as the mission progressed. So, when it was 2330 on a cold London Thursday night, Bond sat down in his hotel and opened his laptop. R had already organised the link, and the cameras immediately streamed their footage to his screen.

The mission was at a well-known gay club in the city, where the target, a Michael Bray, was known to frequent. Q and Alec would enter, Alec would distract the guy and steal his phone, Q would quickly hack into the database, download what was needed, and the phone would be back in the target's pocket with him none the wiser.

It should have been foolproof, but the one thing that absolutely no one counted on, happened.

"Hey there," Alec said smoothly as he slid up next to Michael at the bar. "Tell me I have a minute to buy you a drink before your date comes back."

"I don't have a date," Michael replied, and Alec grinned.

"Then you must have a lot of minutes."

Bond rolled his eyes. Alec got that line off him. To everyone's surprise, the target stood up.

"Afraid not. If you'll excuse me."

Michael walked away from a very confused Alec. He had never, ever been turned down before, on a mission or not, by male, female, or other. It just didn't happen. Up until this moment, his record was as bump-free as Bond's. He watched as Michael moved around the dance-floor, going to someone on the other side of the bar.

"Um, Alec?" Q's voice came in over the comms. "Why is the target coming towards me?"

Alec got one expletive in (Bond got three) before the target's voice was heard through the ear-piece.

"Now, if a pretty thing like you is sitting alone, what chance to the rest of us have?"

Bond could see Q's blush even in the grainy image of the club's security cameras. He wasn't fazed, Q was embarrassed rather than pleased. Luckily, Michael didn't know the difference.

"What's your name, young thing?"

"James," Q blurted out, and Michael smiled.

"Well, James, do you dance?"

Bond knew Q could, but he highly doubted he would without…

"You'll have to buy me a drink first."

Michael smiled even wider and grabbed Q's hand, leading him back to the bar, where Alec quickly made himself scarce. The bartender came over quickly.

"Double vodka shot, thanks," Q said, and Michael ordered one for himself as well. They clinked the tiny glasses together and downed the alcohol, Q wincing is it burned his throat. Michael signalled for another and soon four little glasses were lined up at their elbows on the bar table.

"Bond?" Alec said quietly.

"Yes?"

"How good is Q at holding his liquor?"

Before Bond could respond, a loud laugh echoed through the comms and Michael was leading Q onto the dance floor.

"Not very well."

"Ah."

Q was dancing freely now, inhibitions gone as the vodka coursed through him. Michael seemed pleasantly surprised at how much of a lightweight his partner was and moved easily with Q, creeping closer until they touched with every move. Michael reached out and put his hands on Q's hips, and Q spun around so he could roll his ass against Michael's crotch. He also used the opportunity to speak into the ear-piece without Michael seeing.

"Alec, I have his thing, his… phone. Come get it and R can tell you how to hack and download the stuff. Please hurry, I think I have about ten minutes until I throw up."

006 danced through the crowd, changing partners at an alarming pace until he accidently bumped into Q, taking the phone, and moved off into the bathrooms. A few minutes later he returned and slipped the phone back into Q's hand, which just happened to be right next to Michael's back pocket. Q then took his own phone out and held it to his ear. He leant in so his lips were against Michael's ear.

"I have to go!"

"Why?" Michael mimed back over the music, looking disappointed. Q grinned.

"My boyfriend's outside."

Q hurried away, leaving Michael on the dance-floor. Alec caught him as he stumbled out of the club, and pushed him into the waiting car, which drove them back to HQ.

Q's phone buzzed and he looked at the number and smiled before picking it up.

"Why, good evening my gorgeous, sexy agent."

Bond laughed.

"Q, you're still connected to the comms and you're really drunk."

"I am not, and I am not!" Q slurred, misjudging where the window was and thumping his head against it.

"Whatever you say. Well done on the mission, I was watching."

"I know you were! Did you see me dance? I know you love it when I dance, James. You get this look in your eyes that promises all kinds of fun and excitin-"

"Q!"

"I wish I could have been dancing with you, though. Do you remember that time when we were in Hawaii and it was a billion squadrillion degrees and we danced all night under that cabana on the beach and everyone left after a while, so we had sex on the bar table?"

"R, can you turn off the ear-piece, please?"

"Honestly, Bond, sand got everywhere!"

"R out!"

The connection stilled and Bond knew it was just the two of them, so he hung up the phone and just used the comms.

"We can do that again when I get home."

"Have sex?"

"And dance."

"You promise," Q said, yawning, and then clamping his mouth shut as his stomach twisted.

"Promise. Go to bed, drink lots of water, and remember to take Nurofen, not Panadol. I love you."

"Love you, too."

"Oh, and Alec?"

006 turned around to face Q's ear-piece.

"If you ever repeat anything you've heard, I'll kill you."

"Understood, James. I'll get him home."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	21. Day Twenty-One: Cooking

"Is it fluffy yet?"

Bond pushed the beaters around the bowl, only just managing to hide a grimace.

"How a combination of sugar and butter be described as 'fluffy' is beyond me."

Q leaned over Bond's shoulder, peering into the bowl.

"Come on, James, put your back into it," he said, planting a light kiss on Bond's neck.

"Why don't you put your back into it?"

"Because I'm holding the recipe. Time to put the egg in!"

He danced across the kitchen and Bond appreciated the view until Q came back with an egg, the wine, and vanilla. He cracked the shell delicately and poured the contents into the well Bond made in the mixture, then added the other two ingredients, looking proudly up at Bond as he did so. Bond couldn't resist leaning down and kissing him softly. There was a streak of flour across his cheekbone, highlighting the happy flush that lingered there.

"You're cheerful," Bond noted as Q skipped across the kitchen after returning the kiss.

"We're making a cake! And it's for Eve! For her birthday! And it contains alcohol! James, this couldn't be more perfect!"

Bond looked at the alcohol in question. They needed three quarters of a cup in the cake, but half the bottle was gone. Bond chuckled to himself. That explained a lot, especially as a loud crash came from behind him and he turned to see Q completely covered in flour, turning his hair white and obscuring Q's glasses.

"Whoops!"

Bond laughed as he stepped over the mess on the floor and guided Q to a chair, until he realised it was just spreading the flour over the rest of the apartment. Instead he quickly divulged Q of his shirt and pants, causing the Quartermaster to giggle in a way that Bond would blackmail him with later, and went to get new clothes. By the time he came back, Q was standing triumphantly next to the oven, which held the mixture in the baking pan. Bond looked at him.

"I did it!"

"You put the rest of the ingredients in first, right?"

Q rolled his eyes, looking gorgeous even when sarcastic, possibly helped by the fact that he was only in his underwear.

"No, Bond. I thought that your expertly beaten sugar and butter would make the perfect birthday gift for Eve without anything else being added."

The effect was somewhat lessened by his unconscious swaying, and his massive grin.

"Did I tell you I used to do cooking at school? I topped the class."

Bond raised an eyebrow.

"So I've been doing all the cooking for the past three months because…?"

If possible, Q's smile stretched even wider.

"You look positively delicious in an apron."

Bond ignored the awful pun and walked forward to kiss Q again.


	22. Day Twenty-Two: In Battle Side By Side

Bond and Q battled side by side on every mission, whether they were on opposite ends of the Earth or there in the midst of it together. Q's voice in Bond's ear tied him back to England when the mission was threatening his life or his sanity, and Bond's erratic safety kept Q focused in the shifts that dragged on for sleepless days and nights. All of MI6 knew of their relationship and how it had strengthened the two on a mission, making them into an almost unbeatable force. Although none would admit it, the only time any of them thought the pairing had finally confronted a mission they couldn't pull through was a desperate mission in Thailand. Q was breaking into the target's Blackberry when the gunshots started. Bond, acting as a bodyguard, pushed Q under cover and fired back.

Q tapped away on the phone, trying to hack even faster, when he heard a different kind of bang and Bond landed at his feet. The ricochet of a bullet had pushed him into the wall and although he wasn't bleeding, he was knocked unconscious.

"Q? Q, what's going on?"

R was back in Q-branch, the tremble in her voice betraying her normal collected persona.

"Bond's out cold. R, hack the Blackberry, I've connected it to our network."

He heard R's keyboard on the other line as she took over breaking into the phone.

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, there's not really much of a choice, is there?"

He bent down and pulled on Bond's arm, dragging him into the minimal cover the wall presented, sliding the gun out of his limp grasp, watching as the light flashed green. All the guns were coded to his handprint, too, otherwise he'd need to call in each agent to personally test them.

"Right," he said to himself, before stepping over Bond's body, turning sideways to minimise the enemy's target, and fired.

It took about 90 seconds for the rest of MI6 to find out that the Quartermaster was vastly underestimated. It only took 10 seconds for R to break into the shooting records. The double-0's finally understood how someone so… scrawny could hold their own against the likes of 007.

Q's attackers fell like bowling pins, one more hole neatly shot through their body, as Q-branch looked on in awe.

The evacuation team flew in smoothly, picking the two men up and departing as fast as possible. Bond woke hours later, when they were almost across the Pacific.

"Q?" He asked, somewhat blearily. "What happened?"

He heard a buzz of static in his ear, and R spoke over the comms.

"He saved your life, and now has every agent either terrified of him, or in love with him. How's the head, 007?"

Bond let himself sink back into the pillows, and prepared himself for the onslaught he would be receiving from Mallory for making Q cover him in a firefight.


	23. Day Twenty-Three: Arguing

Bond walked into Q-branch, feeling like he was entering a battlefield. Q's eyes burned him as he walked the length of the floor, and Q's lips didn't part from their thinly-pressed line as Bond slid his gun over the desk. Bond tried to think of a time he'd seen Q this angry before but not even when a minion had destroyed three prototypes with a single explosion had he seen the fury that was currently etched onto the Quartermaster's face.

"Q-" he started, and the heard the minions simultaneously freeze behind him. It was creepy how they did that sometimes.

"007."

"Q, I can explain."

"I'd you like to see you try."

Sticks and stones, Bond thought, as each of Q's consonants came out of his mouth as sharp as daggers.

"Can we go into your office?"

Q turned on his heel, waving at R to take the floor. Bond closed the door softly behind and inhaled, but Q beat him to it.

"How dare you!"

Bond almost took a step back.

"You weren't clear! You detonated the bomb and you weren't out of the blast radius! You knew it!"

"Yes, I know, but-"

"There is no excuse, James!" To Bond's complete surprise, Q slammed his fist down on the desk. Q never lost his temper. Bond involuntarily twitched his shooting hand, and then winced internally when Q's eyes followed the movement.

"I know the job. I know that one day you're going to come back to me in a body-bag, I've accepted that from the start. But for the last few months I honestly believed that it would be from a bullet, or a car crash, or something I couldn't prevent despite my best efforts, because for the last few months you had me convinced that I was enough to make you want to come home." Bond saw the crack in Q's anger and it slowly dissolved, leaving Q's expression as pure betrayal and hurt. "It's not just about you anymore, James," Q was whispered. "I thought I was good enough for you."

Bond took a step forward, reaching for Q, to comfort and explain, but Q flinched back.

"Just go, Bond. Just, leave."


	24. Day Twenty-Four: Making Up

Bond left.

He went back to their apartment and showered, washing away the rubble that clung to his suit and skin from the explosion. Normally he would never walk away from a fight, but something Q had said disturbed him… It wasn't the fact that he wouldn't let Bond talk, that was natural when someone was so upset, but it was what he was upset about.

Bond loved Q more than he'd loved anything before. He'd loved Vesper, but he'd found there was an extra dimension to love when the other person loved you back. Loyalty, comfort, passion, it was all there with Q. The only person who had the guts to challenge him, and they'd given themselves to the other willingly. They made a perfect team, unbeatable and renowned in their world of espionage.

So why did Q jump to the conclusion that Bond was still as unstable, as unsure, as he was when they met? Q bought him the balance in his life that gave him a home worth returning to, a life he loved, and a partner he couldn't be without. The last mission was a mess, but he knew that as soon as Q let him explain, he'd be forgiven for blowing the building early. But that wasn't the main problem anymore. Bond made dinner, but put it in the fridge straightaway, waiting for Q, even though he knew it would be hours. He sat on the couch and thought of what to say.

The door opened at one in the morning, and he heard Q slip inside and put his bag on the ground. Bond stood up and reached the doorway the same time Q did. They stared at each other, Q's anger replaced with the dreaded uncertainty. Q looked wretched and Bond wanted nothing more than to wrap him arms around him and kiss him until he was asleep.

"I made dinner."

Q didn't meet his gaze, instead looking somewhere over Bond's shoulder.

"Thank you. You didn't have to wait up."

"I wanted to. I'll get the food ready, OK?"

Q nodded and went to their bedroom, shrugging out of his coat as he walked. Bond waited until he heard the shower running before he moved into the kitchen and reheated their dinner. By the time Q came back, two steaming plates were on the table. Q sat opposite Bond and picked up his fork before putting it back down.

"I'm sorry, I'm not hungry. I'm going to go to bed."

Bond followed Q to the bedroom.

"There were a group of teenagers coming down the road. The cameras couldn't have picked them up, since they were all trained on the building. If I had waited until I got completely out of the way to detonate, they would have been caught in the blast."

Q was silent for a long moment, before he nodded slowly.

"I apologise for yelling at you. I know better than to second guess your decisions in the field."

Q turned towards the bed, but Bond reached out and took his hand in his own, gently turning Q back to face it.

"That's not the issue, Q."

Q frowned delicately, tilting his head slightly to one side.

"Then what is?"

Bond looked at him for a long moment.

"Do you honestly believe that you're not enough for me?"

The slight curiosity in Q's face vanished, leaving his face a perfect, blank mask that Bond admired at work, but hated at home. It was Q closing himself off from the rest of the world.

"Q?"

Q sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed, and Bond sat next to him.

"I'm sorry, James. I know… I know you love me, and I've never doubted that. You choose carefully, but you pour your heart into whatever decision you make, and you chose me." Q allowed himself a small smile, but it dropped after less than a second. "But when I saw the explosion… James, I was terrified." Q finally looked him in the eye, and Bond could see the naked fear there, even though he was sitting right next to Q, perfectly safe and in a single piece. "I've never been that scared."

Bond wrapped his arm around Q's shoulders and pulled his wiry frame into his own. Q exhaled heavily and rested his head against Bond's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Bond kissed his unruly hair.

"I can't promise you that I'll always come back, because you're right, one day I won't. But I can promise that I will always try. Because knowing that I'm coming home to you… There's nothing stronger than that."

Q tilted his head up and Bond kissed him softly, reminding both of them that, for now, they were both alive. And they were home.


	25. Day 25: Gazing Into Each Other's Eyes

They were tied to chairs, their hands uselessly bound behind their backs. In a cruel twist they were facing each other, staring at the other person in the cold room. Bond hated it. He was meant to protect Q. Not just as a job requirement, but as a friend, as a lover. He was meant to protect him. But they'd never counted on both of them getting kidnapped, and Bond never counted on not being the focus of their captor's attentions. No, instead he had to look at Q, at his Q, day in and day out, as he was hit and kicked and burnt and cut, and just sit there, staring into his eyes and giving him the only comfort that he could. They couldn't talk, they were under constant surveillance, but seeing the other person's face was enough.

Q, I'm so sorry.

There's nothing to apologise for.

I'll get us out of here.

MI6 will come for us.

Hold on. Just one more day. Hold on.

The door opened and footsteps clicked towards Q, who'd stare into Bond's blue eyes, trying to stretch the peaceful moments of healing rather than feeling new pain.

I love you.

Q wished Bond closed his eyes, but he never did. So they stared at each other, wishing and hoping and waiting for someone to find them.


	26. Day Twenty-Six: Getting Married

The bets had been going on for years before the invitations were sent out. What would it be like? The wedding of MI6's Quartermaster, and MI6's top operative Commander James Bond, 007. Half of Headquarters thought Bond would take over, organise everything extravagantly, complete with explosions timed to the steps down the aisle and everyone dressed in something that cost at least a year's salary. There would be alcohol galore and none of the food would be written in English. All of MI6 would be invited and Bond would outdo everyone and wear his old Navy uniform, rising to the role of Commander rather than assassin for the day he legally gave himself to someone other than his country.

The other half thought that if Q had managed to keep Bond in line this far, he would have his way with the wedding, too. It would be quiet and casual, perfectly personal, but lacking any of the glamour that Bond would want to mark the occasion. A few thought the Quartermaster could even persuade 007 to wear jeans. Please, the majority scoffed, as if he even owned any.

A very few special cases thought that Q would unleash his A.I.-drones they all knew he was hiding in the back-cupboards of Q-branch and make them present the ceremony, but they got politely directed to the communal coffee-pot and the elusive Artificial Intelligence wasn't mentioned again.

As word got out that they were finally engaged, money starting pouring in to Eve, who had long since decreed that she would be organising the betting-pool and would receive fifteen percent of the winnings.

"But I just don't see the point, Q," Bond said for what must have been the fifth time that evening. He was stirring the pasta sauce, careful not to spill any on his jeans, while Q was waiting for the kettle to boil, fiddling with his ring. It was a new habit that Bond thoroughly approved of.

"It's a once in a lifetime thing, James! Not to mention that the last time MI6 got a wedding was over a decade ago and it would break their collective hearts if they weren't involved."

"I understand that bit, but I don't see why you think a huge, flashy event is necessary. It's not like anything is really going to change. We're already living together, everything I own is already set to go to you if I die again, you even own half my car!"

"The better half," Q said, smirking, remembering the rocket launchers.

"Can't it just be something simple for once?" Bond balanced the spoon on top of the saucepan and walked over to Q, capturing his hips with his hands. "I'm so used to things going wrong, Q. And I'm not worried about us, so stop that train of thought before your mind overruns with it, I just mean that I want this to be something incredibly special, something that we'll think about again and again. And I don't want us to think that it was all made up just for everyone else's enjoyment… Does that sound selfish?"

Q smiled and cupped Bond's face with his hands before kissing him softly.

"No. You're right. MI6 is happy if we're happy, and this day's meant to be about you."

"About us," Bond corrected before tapping Q on the nose. Q laughed before he looked over Bond's shoulder at the hot-plates.

"As much as I love you, I'm definitely not as inclined to marry you if you let my sauce burn."

Bond saluted smartly before saving the sauce with an expert stir.

"Yes, sir."

The highly anticipated day arrived and the entirety of MI6, agents and handlers on missions excluded, were crammed into the biggest meeting hall in HQ, but the room was almost unrecognisable. It was all done up in colours so soft no one would've expected Bond to be part of it, and so artistic the staff of Q-branch felt confused on their leader's behalf. There were minimal flowers, and the altar was merely the usual lectern, moved into the middle of the presentation stage. But it was the backdrop that had most people gasping.

The whole back wall was a perfect rendition of Turner's Fighting Temeraire. The colours were perfect and none of the intricate detail had been lost in the massive upscaling the painting had received. Those who knew what it meant smiled to themselves. It was always nice to have something personal at a wedding.

Slowly, a gentle piano piece began playing over the speakers and Eve and R walked in through the open doors, both looking stunning in their light blue dresses, followed by M, Tanner, and Alec who were wearing soft grey suits. Behind them, hand in hand, Bond and Q entered, in almost matching black tuxedos that bought out the best in both of them.

The music continued as the ceremony began. Bond and Q had unrestrainedly struck out different lines in the suggested service that either didn't suit them individually, or were laughable no matter who was getting married, so the MI6-approved minister only spoke for a minimal time before it was time for the couple's vows. The two men faced each other, joy lighting up their features as they held hands underneath the painting, surrounded by their friends and colleagues, not caring in that moment that there were people from Treasury there, that there were six (and a half) international crisis that had to be dealt with in the next forty-five minutes, and that Bond was due to leave for Shanghai in under six hours. Even the persistent, mundane thoughts that usually plagued Q's active mind fell silent as Bond inhaled and spoke loud enough to be heard across the whole hall.

"My dearest Q. When we first met, there was a storm brewing. As you know, I took one look at you and immediately dismissed you as another piece of debris that would only last long enough to find a replacement. At the end of that first mission I changed my mind, instead deciding that you were a factor of the wind. Not necessarily able to change the direction, or the course of the destruction, but at least able to ride it out. In the years, the conversations, and the missions that followed, I was forced to admit that I had completely misread you. You're so genuine, I convinced myself there was another side to you, a darker side that would trap me, and I fought off the growing curiosity, reminding myself how such things play out. And it wasn't until I woke up in Medical at 4:52 on the morning of Friday 9th September, three years after we met, with a shattered foot, did I realise that I had wasted all this time second-guessing the most important, and the most sincere person I've ever met. I promised myself then and there that I would never waste another day. Because you're the eye of the storm, the centre of the decisions that save lives and change the world. You are my heart. You are my home."

A few of the more knowledgeable members of MI6 were wiping their eyes. The rest of them were in shock that these words were voluntarily coming out of 007's mouth.

"This is certainly one of the happiest days of my life, but I promise that from every day onwards, just like every day since I met you, I will love you more, protect you always, and make you happier than you've ever known."

Bond inhaled deeply. Emotions were so difficult, and the length of Alec's grin was throwing him off, but he didn't care. Q's eyes were shining just like after Bond had told him he loved him for the first time, after Bond had proposed and, funnily enough, the one time Bond bought back all his equipment intact. Q took a few deep breaths himself and ran over his speech in his mind, it was shorter than Bond's, but Q was used to getting straight to the point.

"James. When I arrived in Q-branch, everyone warned me about 007. They told me to not expect any equipment back, any politeness or courtesy over the comms, and not to get involved. I think we can say that we always knew they were wrong. I love my job, but no one mentioned how lonely it would be. I didn't even have a name. I was scared for the first few months that I would forget who I was, or what it was like to be a normal person. When I met you, I was taken aback, but not because of the reasons that I was forewarned of, but rather because of the fact that you made me feel alive, feel human. You make me feel like me. And you make me feel loved. I may guide you through whatever explosion you decided was a good idea at the time, but you have always made sure that I never lost myself. You saved me then. And you've saved me every day since. You're my anchor, you're my shelter, you're my heart, and you're my soul. I've already promised to love you forevermore, but I promise I will care for you, appreciate you, and make every day worth it, and every mission worth coming back from. I love you, and, in front of all these people, I hereby promise that after our honeymoon, I will build you an exploding pen."

The minions paled simultaneously, but everyone else was on their feet, clapping as the newlyweds walked back down the aisle, hearts singing. Bond had never felt lighter than he did in that moment, and he knew that between him and Q, they could take on the world. And win.


	27. Day 27: On One Of Their Birthdays

Bond woke up slowly, taking in his surroundings before he even opened his eyes. He reached across the bed, but instead of finding his usual, perfect partner who was always up for a cuddle, his hand felt empty sheets.

"Q?" He called out, but then regretted it as his brain reminded him what the date was. Bond groaned and flopped his head back onto the pillow, wishing he could sleep for the next twenty four hours.

The wonderful smell of pancakes and bacon and eggs permeated through his dismal thoughts and Q appeared in the doorway, holding a tray filled with food.

"Good morning!"

He set the tray down carefully on his side of the bed before walking over and giving Bond a kiss on the cheek.

"And happy birthday," he whispered into Bond's ear.

To Q's surprise Bond sat up, but leant away from him.

"Thank you for the breakfast Q, it looks and smells amazing, but could we maybe ignore the fact that it's my birthday today?"

Q slipped into the bed, squeezing himself in next to Bond.

"Why?"

Bond sighed and picked up a pancake. Q waited until he'd swallowed the last bite before nudging him with his elbow.

"James…"

"I just don't like the idea of getting even older, of being one year closer to retirement age, one year further away from you. There's nothing to celebrate."

Q looked at him for a long moment, before leaning in to kiss him gently.

"See, my brilliant agent, that's where you've got it all wrong."

Bond raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt.

"Your birthday doesn't necessarily celebrate another year of your life, although that certainly is something worth rejoicing in, it's all about the pleasure of your very existence. The fact that, however many years ago, you were born. That was when my love entered the world, before I was even a wink and a promise." Q kissed down Bond's neck as he spoke the words softly into his scarred skin. "And on that note, no matter how many birthdays there are, we're still going to have the exact same age difference, which you know is precisely an 'I don't care' number of years."

The kisses trailed further down, across Bond's chest and Bond arched as Q's tongue circled a nipple.

"So, are you going to let me spoil you, or do I need to call Moneypenny in early and drug you enough that you'll go along with it anyway?"

He'd reached Bond's waistband and immediately stopped, lifting his head so there was no contact, knowing Bond felt the loss. Green eyes met blue over Bond's torso, lovingly and playfully. Bond ground his hips into the bed, trying unsuccessfully to get Q to continue, but Q just kept looking at him, waiting for an answer.

"Well," Bond finally conceded. "When you put it like that…"

Q smiled and lowered his head, kissing Bond's stomach before bounding out of bed.

"Excellent!"

"Hang on, where do you think you're going?"

"Eat your breakfast, James! I've got the whole day planned out!"

Q all but ran out of the room and Bond stared after him, grinning.

Maybe this birthday wouldn't be that bad, after all.


	28. Day 28: Doing Something Ridiculous

"Bond," Q hissed as the agent in question grabbed his wrist and dragged him round another corner. "Bond!"

"You know," Bond whispered back. "The whole point of sneaking around is to make sure no one finds you. That means silence, Q."

"But, James!"

"Ssh!"

Q huffed but allowed himself to be pulled around the corridors of MI6. Really, this was ridiculous. No one knows how the prank war between Bond and Moneypenny started, and exactly the same amount of people knew when it was going to stop. Q wasn't convinced that he wanted to get involved. Last week, when Bond appeared on their doorstep completely glitter-bombed, Q fully realised the extent the two agents were willing to go. He just wanted to get back to his coding.

"Remind me again why I'm here?"

"Has all the glitter gone from the Welcome mat?"

"No…"

"There you go! This is your revenge, too!"

Q thought Bond was enjoying himself far too much.

They scurried through Headquarters and managed to avoid the crowds as lunch-break finished by squishing into a tiny cupboard until the sound of footsteps died away. Finally they arrived on M's floor, and Bond listened at the door for a few seconds before lining it up carefully, and pulling a plastic gun out of his jacket pocket. Q raised one eyebrow, but didn't ask. A moment later, Bond burst through the door, and a screech and a thump indicated Moneypenny was finding cover. Bond hurried inside the room with Q, thinking about the shiny mat back home, on his heels.

Moneypenny was hiding behind a couch, with a weapon of her own, and Bond had taken up his position behind the door, belatedly realising that Q was left in the open, weaponless.

Q-" he began when Moneypenny jumped up and opened fire. Q leapt out of the way just in time and a mix of flour and water thunked into the wall where his head had been.

"Eve!"

"You walked into the room, Q, with your allegiances clear!" She yelled as she rolled across the floor to land beside the printer. "You're a fair target now!"

Before Q could say anything else, Bond jumped forward to push him behind the door where he'd been standing, effectively covering him as Q ran for the safe place. As he fired, a large blob of bright orange paint hit the printer. Eve gasped.

"007! You'll be cleaning that up after we're done!"

Bond laughed.

"No, I won't."

They chased each other round the room, with Q occasionally hopping from cover to cover, avoiding both of them, and definitely regretting getting involved. From the corner of his eye he saw Eve point her gun forward, so he shot up from behind the couch, only to come face-to-face with Bond's gun. Q's eyes widened as he realised he was directly in the line of fire of both of them, and ducked, just as the door behind him opened.

Everyone stopped.

Everyone stared.

M stood in the doorway of his office, completely and utterly covered in a mix of flour, water, and paint.

The orange did not suit his tie.

He looked slowly around the room, taking in Eve, Bond, and finally Q, who was still on the ground.

"Run?" Eve stage-whispered across the office.

"Run."

They hopped forwards, grabbed one of Q's arms each, picking him up and spinning him round and the three of them sprinted away from M, too terrified to look back.

It wasn't until they were in the safety of Q-branch did they finally collapse, laughing hysterically. Q gave it five minutes before they got called back to the office, but as he picked up the two guns and fired them both squarely at Bond's and Eve's chests, he decided he didn't care. It was worth it.


	29. Day 29: Doing Something Sweet

AN: Hi everyone!

I'm so sorry that this has been such a long wait! Life stuff got in the way, but I made this extra long to make it up to you!  
The last day should be coming soon, but I don't want to make any promises. Thanks for hanging in there with me!  
And, as always, if you have any prompts of ideas, you know where to find me!

-Bubbletrix

* * *

James Bond, 007, didn't have emotions. He didn't have 'feelings'. And he most certainly wasn't in love with the Quartermaster.

Except he was.

Alec figured it out before even Bond did, but after the dreadful realisation hit, Bond retreated into himself. The first few times Alec had come home to their shared house and he'd found Bond drowning himself in his vodka supply, he'd tried to talk about it. But Bond would leave muttering darkly about 'Vesper' and 'I'll hurt him' and 'he doesn't like me anyway'. It was the only time Alec had seen his best friend give up on something before he even tried. Six months down the line and even Alec was at his limit. He stormed into the apartment, smelt the alcohol and swept into the kitchen like a hurricane.

"What happened?"

"He's pissed at me because I lost the gun."

Alec raised an eyebrow.

"Again."

Alec sighed.

"Bloody hell, James. You seriously need to grow a pair and do something."

Bond looked at the glass in his hand.

"Enlighten me, Alec. What should I do?"

Alec ignored the murderous tone and pushed ahead.

"Take him out to dinner, to a show, or buy him flowers and chocolates. You can write him a love poem for all I care, but you're wrecking yourself over this and I don't see why you won't just act on it. And don't start on about Vesper," he said when Bond opened his mouth. "I think you're insulting both you and Q by even comparing them."

Bond frowned. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"He's not fragile, James. He's not a civilian who doesn't understand. You want someone who knows exactly what we do and who'll take care of you anyway? Q's the only one, mate. Give him a chance."

"What if he doesn't want me?"

"He's a genius. Of course he bloody wants you."

"Alec, I'm blushing."

Alec punched him. Hard. Bond rolled out of the chair and settled into a defensive crouch, ready to leap at Alec when his phone rang. Alec picked it up off the counter and grinned before answering.

"Q, darling, how are you?"

Bond jumped up and tried to grab the phone, but Alec danced out of his way.

"Do I know where Bond is? Well, how about we trade an answer for an answer, hey Q?"

Bond picked up his glass, drained the rest of it and threw it at Alec's head. It smashed into the wall next to him.

"No, no, I'm fine. No, we're not at a bar, we're at home, James just throws things when he doesn't get his way, but that's the worst of his habits, I promise!"

Alec turned to wink at Bond only to see the agent's face a split second before he was tackled to the ground. Bond landed on top of him and ripped the phone away from him.

"Q?"

"007." Bond immediately relaxed as the posh tones sounded in his ear. "Do I need to call Medical for 006?"

"What do you take me for?"

"A highly trained killer," Q shot back.

"Yes, but I'm not on duty. He's fine."

"Good. You're both coming in. A car will arrive for you in ten minutes."

"I can drive!" Alec huffed, still stuck under Bond's weight.

"So can I. Q, we don't need the delivery service."

Q sighed deeply.

"006, the last time you drove in London I had to spend three hours erasing video footage, and I don't have the time today. 007, your BAC is currently over the legal limit, and hacking RBT machines is finicky. I take it you forgot your subdermal tracker picks up these things. See you soon, agents." The phone call ended before Bond could reply.

He looked at Alec.

"If you date him, maybe I'll become second favourite," Alec joked.

"Wouldn't count on it."

I.

The mission stranded them in freezing Northern Russia for a fortnight. When they were waiting for their plane to take them back to the England, Bond was actually looking forward to the London rain, simply because it would be twenty degrees warmer than blizzards. Alec passed the time flirting with security officer who was meant to be patrolling the airport, while Bond meandered through the kitschy shops that were littered with gullible tourists wanting memorabilia to combat their frostbite. It was in the last shop window that something caught his eye. It was a small igloo, made entirely of glass that seemed to sparkle in the light. Alec raised an eyebrow at Bond's wrapped package as they boarded their plane, but didn't say a word.

Somewhere in the snow lay the remains of the kit Q had given them, and Bond volunteered to face the Quartermaster's wrath. Alec patted him on the back and left him to it. When Bond walked into Q-branch it was blissfully quiet, possibly because it was four in the morning. The only person there was Q. He was curled up on a couch on the far wall, balancing a laptop on his knees, the screen's glow flashing across his glasses. Bond cleared his throat.

Q swiftly shut down whatever he was working on and walked over to his main desk.

"007. Glad to see you with all ten fingers. Medical checked you out?"

"Unfortunately Eve got to me before I could sneak past them."

"Ah, well, she is very good at what she does. I take it you, once again, have managed to lose or destroy all my equipment?"

"Well, it was a rather thick blizzard."

"You are the bane of my financial hopes, 007."

"I did bring you something back, though."

Q eyes him suspiciously as he produced a wrapped bundle from his inside coat pocket.

"That's not my equipment."

"No," said Bond, placing the package on the desk between them. "But I can hardly go all the way to Russia, lose the equipment, and not bring back something in apology. Have a lovely morning, Q."

Bond almost strutted out. The plan had begun.

A week later, James and Alec were playing a ruthless MarioKart drinking game when Alec changed the topic of conversation.

"James, do you know where Q got a trashy igloo souvenir from?"

James almost dropped the controller.

"Did he mention something to you?"

"God no, it's on his desk. Ha, blue shell! I win! Two shots to you, James! James? What are you grinning about?"

"Nothing, Alec. Absolutely nothing."

The next month James was sent on a mission to Sydney. It was a simple surveillance job, and a welcome change to the London winter. Australia in summer was beautiful as long as you had access to air conditioning, and Sydney was filled with busy people. Unfortunately, Bond's radio dropped out of his pocket and into Darling Harbour, and his gun managed to find its way under a car when Bond was finding a better position. Needless to say, the Quartermaster was unimpressed. Bond dutifully kept the earpiece in through the rant.

"I hope you think of all the possibilities for my budget if it wasn't wasted on replacing reckless agent's equipment. This wasn't even a fight 007! You dropped it! Next time, I'm just going to give something that you can strap on- ah, shit! Ow!" A crash sounded on the other end of the line.

"Q?" Bond was on alert, even half a world away. "Q, are you OK?"

"Sorry, 007. I'm fine, anyway-"

"No, Q, what's happened? Are you hurt?"

There was a pause on the other end.

"007, I'm not hurt. I just picked something up the wrong way, it's fine."

"Why did it hurt then?"

Q snorted delicately, and Bond could almost see the amusement in his green eyes.

"Working on computers for the majority of my life has got some nasty disadvantages. Generic RSI, but there's no need for concern, it doesn't impact my work. You, however, always losing equipment does."

Bond let him speak, his mind whirring.

L.

Bond didn't have time to listen to Q's rants in person, as he was assigned another mission almost as soon as he hit home soil. When Q got into work the morning of Bond's arrival, and of his next departure, he found another wrapped bundle on his desk, with one of his yellow Post-It notes lying on top.

Q,

I'm sure you've heard of it, but this is a laptop stand. It'll angle the keyboard to reduce the strain on your hands. Sorry about the equipment, maybe next time.

-Bond

Q all but tore the paper off, laying his laptop gently on top of the cushioned stand. Hesitantly he began to type, waiting for the tell-tale pains from his wrists. He worked all day, waiting for Bond to arrive in Madrid, and they never hurt once.

Assassination missions. The closest the movies ever got, Bond thought as he stalked down a dark alley. He was going after a politician-turned-criminal, a Mr Davis, who got tied up with one too many terrorist groups. Even though the man was from South America, he travelled nonstop, and the fact that Q-branch found him so close to home was pure luck. Bond waited round a corner, his Walther already in his hand. Davis stepped out of his hotel, his one bodyguard walking behind him. Bond waited for the clearest shot and fired. Davis whirled, the shot going just wide of its mark and hitting him in the shoulder. Bond swore as the bodyguard looked straight at him and raised his own gun.

Ten bloody minutes later, the bodies of Davis and the bodyguard were hauled into the alley and Bond's Walther was lying on the pavement, with the barrel snapped off.

Well, he thought. That's unfortunate.

But there is really no way to tell where an attacker is going to plant their foot. Bond went through Davis's pockets, finding his wallet and phone. The wallet had his cards in, and an impressive amount of money, but Bond's eyes were drawn to two tickets tucked into the left hand side. He smiled. This was almost too convenient.

O.

"Q."

Q turned around.

"Equipment-less 007."

"Nice to see you, too. What are you doing tonight?"

Q looked taken aback.

"Probably building you a new, more resilient gun, why?"

"Take the night off. I've got two tickets to the opera, in Albert Hall."

Bond thought Q looked adorable when he was confused.

"It's La Traviata," he added.

Q looked at R, who nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll get my coat."

Bond felt on top of the world.

V.

Three hours after Bond got back from Italy, Q found a beautiful Venetian mask on his desk, so intricately designed he was still staring at it when Eve came into his office. Her eyes swept from the igloo, and the laptop stand, to the mask Q held in his hands.

"Apparently you went to the opera last night," she said, hands on her hips. Q looked up, and his hands twitched, as if he was going to put the mask behind his back.

"Yes, I did. How do you know?"

"006 mentioned it, because apparently you went with Bond."

"I did. Why do I feel like this is an interrogation?"

Eve picked up the glass igloo, turning it in her hands.

"He just seems to be paying you some more attention than usual, is all."

Q smirked.

"I think I finally got through to him about how frustrating it is about the equipment losses. He's trying to make it up to me."

Eve stared at him.

"That's all that's going on?"

"Of course. What else would there be?"

"You're being serious?"

"Eve, what are you getting at?"

She jumped off the desk, already reaching for her phone.

"Nothing, but you must be terrifying when you talk about your budget woes to inspire that kind of devotion. Have a good day, Q!"

She hit 'send' on the text the moment she was out of Q-branch.

James, it's Eve. What are you doing with Q, and how can I help?

James didn't have access to air conditioning in Mumbai and the humidity was making him melt slowly. He dragged air in through what seemed like a wet sponge as he jogged through the city, following the asset's car. A few more hours and he'd be on a flight back to the Northern Hemisphere where you could at least trust that it was going to be cold and wet, rather than hot and wet. He weaved his way through the homemade stores until his mobile pinged. The message was from Q.

Asset safe. Continue to airport. Flight details attached. – Q

Bond smiled and rubbed his forehead, when someone caught his arm and pulled him round. He tensed, expecting a knife or a gun or a fist, but was only met with a determined woman pressing something into his face, ordering him to buy it. He tried to shrug her off until he actually saw her wares.

"How much?"

E.

Eve walked in without knocking.

"Quartermaster."

Q opened his mouth before closing it again.

"You know, I don't actually know your official position."

She winked at him.

"That's the point."

"What can I do for you, Eve? 007 should have checked in five minutes ago."

"I'm here on his behalf, he's in Medical."

Q was at the door in less than a second.

"What?! Is he OK? What happened? His mission was fine!"

Eve grabbed Q's arm to stop him running out the door.

"Q, relax. He's OK, he just got dehydrated. He'll be out by this evening."

Q didn't even blink.

"Do you know you can die by dehydration, Eve?! How bad is it? Is he unconscious?"

Eve grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Q. Q! Sit down before you pass out. He's awake and OK and harassing the nurses, and I'm pretty sure he's already tried to escape. Honestly, he's worried about you."

That stopped him.

"About me? Why?"

"Well, his equipment didn't make it back, and he had something to give you. He was worried that you wouldn't be here when he gets released, so he sent me as a messenger."

Eve dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a tiny figurine that seemed to shine. She pressed it gently into Q's palm.

It was an elephant, brilliantly carved out of…

"It's pure opal, Q."

"It's beautiful."

"So, is this still him making up for not bringing back the equipment?"

Q looked at the elephant, refusing to meet Eve's gaze.

"Of course, Eve. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Eve rolled her eyes and walked out of Q-branch, nodding to R on her way.

Q placed his new present next to the igloo on his desk, allowing a small smile to cross his face before he pulled up the cameras to Medical, and their reports on Bond's health.

Canada wasn't as cold as Russia had been six months ago, but Bond would almost have welcomed another blizzard merely for something to do. Someone thought it was a good idea to set up a drug ring on the Canadian border. Which is possibly the stupidest decision he'd ever come across, because it's Canada. They notice something illegal going on because it stands out like a sore thumb. Everyone was nice and pleasant and helpful and Bond couldn't remember being more bored. The only interesting thing was that Q had given him a motorbike. It was an old Yamaha that had been done up for snowy climates and Bond wasted his time roaring over the white mounds and frightening skiers.

Eventually, after a week of waiting, he flushed the leader of the ring and handed him over to the agents at Station C, trying not to shake his head at there being only three of them. He didn't even have a scratch. Nonetheless, he smiled as he got back on British soil, because the bike was untouched also.

Y.

Q stared at it.

And he kept staring.

Bond's grin faded after a while, and he started counting the seconds.

Five minutes later, Q moved, but only to stare at Bond.

"You…"

Bond waited.

"You…"

Bond started thinking that maybe Q needed to sit down.

"You…"

He stepped forward and the movement seemed to restore Q's speech.

"You bought back equipment."

"To be fair, I was in the most peaceful country on the Earth."

"But it's a whole motorbike! And you bought it back!"

Q rushed over to it and ran his hands lovingly across the engine. Bond's mouth went dry.

"It doesn't even have scratches, much less dents or burn marks!"

Q looked at him, his face lit up in pure joy.

"God, James, I could kiss you!"

He smiled.

"Maybe I should bring equipment back more often, then."

Q's eyes widened and the happiness bled out of his face as he realised what he'd said.

"I didn't mean- I was just- It's just a figure of speech."

"You called me James."

"No I didn't.

Bond started to laugh.

"I have to get back to work. Thank you for finally returning your equipment intact, 007."

Q almost ran out of the room and Bond's heart sang.

Bond's next mission was in England. M seemed tense when Bond left his office, and this time it wasn't his fault. It wasn't often that MI5 asked for help on their own territory.

Bond worked with their agents well enough, breaking into the house and taking down the residents. There were five in total, and only four were meant to be there. Turns out one of the targets had a son, who got caught in the cross-fire. Bond knelt with him as the Medical team rushed towards the house, but he knew they'd be too late. The boy was crying, already feeling too numb to be distracted by the pain. Bond stared out the window at the moon, which lit up the messy room. Even the earpiece had gone quiet, Q knowing Bond wouldn't want to hear anything he had to say. Bond felt a tug on his sleeve and he looked down. The boy was mouthing something, making Bond lean in closer.

"Look after him, after Mickey, please."

"Who's Mickey?" Bond asked, but the boy didn't answer.

Bond sighed and stood up, throwing the earpiece out the window. Apparently the mission wasn't over yet.

He traipsed through the house, calling out quietly for Mickey, listening for any sound. At the far end he entered a room that was obviously the boy's. Bond turned on the light, and a large tank in the corner caught his attention. It was half filled with water, and a pile of gravel and rocks formed a small dry area. Moving closer, Bond saw a nameplate drawn in crayon. "Mickey – The Idiot." Bond leant over the top of the tank and saw a small tortoise asleep under a heat lamp. He sighed again as he reached in and picked it up. It immediately drew its head and feet into the shell.

"Mickey," he said, before turning around and heading home.

O.

A week later there had been no contact from 007, and Q was getting worried. He knew he was at his apartment with 006, but both of them had gone out several times, but not approached HQ. Q looked away from the trackers and started losing himself in some new blueprints instead. Bond would come in when he was ready.

A few hours later a crash and a torrent of swearing made him look up. He was greeted by the view of Bond backing through the door, holding something large, with Trevelyan on the other end.

"Just in the corner, I think, Alec," Bond puffed, angling himself so Alec wouldn't get squished in the doorway.

"Right you are, James."

"What are you doing?!"

"Just a second, Q!"

Q watched in disbelief as the two agents deposited a large, new tank into the corner of his office, only empty because the filing cabinets stored there were overflowing and had been moved down to the Archives. It was also directly below the Venetian mask Q had hung on the wall. Q shook his head. That wasn't the point.

"OK, what is going on?"

Alec grinned at him, while James reached into the tank before turning round and laying a tortoise on Q's desk on top of the blueprints. It was eating some lettuce.

"Q, meet Mickey, the Idiot."

Q looked at Bond sharply.

"This is Mickey?"

"Yes. He's now your Official Office Pet."

"What?"

"He doesn't really eat much, and we've set up the tank already. He's pretty hard to lose track of, since he moves slower than Alec before his first coffee."

"Hey!"

"But I can't keep him," Bond continued. "I'm out too much. But even when you're busy, your minions can keep a feeding schedule or something."

Q poked Mickey. Mickey continued eating.

"You're giving me a tortoise."

"No, I'm giving you an Office Pet."

"Office Pet," Alec repeated, unnecessarily stressing the first word.

"Bond, I-"

But Q looked away from Mickey just in time to see Bond's face fall. He reminded himself that not only had Bond had a rough mission he wasn't even meant to have been on, but he was willingly back at HQ sober. Q smiled.

"You know, I've never actually had a pet before."

"Office. Pet." Alec said. "But you're kidding! Not even a fish?"

"No, I just never got around to it. He'll be perfect. Thank you."

Q flashed Bond another smile, watching the other man smile in return, happy with Q's acceptance.

"I've got to get to M."

Q nodded and stepped out of the way so they could leave.

"Bond?"

James turned around.

"Yes?"

"I'll… I'll be here. All day, I mean. If, if you wanted to debrief M's debrief."

James smiled again.

"Thanks, Q. Mickey's smudging your paper."

"007, go left."

Bond pushed himself harder, running away from the gunshots that echoed around him.

"Q, they're getting closer."

"I'm working on it, next right in fifteen metres."

Bond caught himself on the wall, whipping around the corner and into the next corridor.

"These guys must love their boss, if they want to avenge him this badly."

"I dare say firing at you is making their day, 007. Keep going."

Bond ran, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. They knew their boss was dead, so why were they still following him? They couldn't have that much loyalty, so… They thought Bond had something. He remembered, too late, the worried look the boss had flashed at his computer, just as Bond's bullet hit him. But it wasn't at the computer, it was at the desk.

There was a USB. There had been a USB. James stopped.

"007, what are you doing? Keep going!"

"I need to get back to the office."

"No! Stop! You're going the wrong way!"

Bond ignored him and made his way back through the maze of tunnels, trying to avoid his pursuers whilst Q yelled in his ear. Because it was Q that mattered, if that computer had something on it worth killing for, worth dying for, Q needed to have it.

He burst into the office and snatched the USB up, jumping over the body on the floor, before running out again.

"Need an exit plan, Q!"

"Oh, now you listen to me! Turn around, then go right, second left, and down the stairs. I'm locking as many doors as I can. Keep running!"

Bond ran. He ran as hard as he could, knowing that the USB in his hand needed to get to Q, possibly more than the boss had needed to die. He made it to the stairwell and jumped down the stairs, rolling as he hit the platform.

"Down to ground level, Bond. Come on!"

He kept going, pushing his body to the limit, air refusing to enter his lungs, when the firing stopped.

"Q," he gasped out as he turned down another stairwell.

"Run, James."

That wasn't right. Because Q couldn't sound scared.

"Run!"

Bond made it onto the ground level and had just gotten out the door when the whole building exploded. He leapt for the ground, putting his arms over his head, and saw black.

U.

Q didn't care how uncomfortable the chair was. He didn't care that he hadn't slept in days, and hadn't eaten in more. He didn't care that the nurses looked at him and he didn't care that R said Mickey missed him.

Bond was lying on the bed in front of him, still as death, the beeps from the heart monitor the only thing confirming that he wasn't… Because he couldn't… Not James.

Q stared at him, wishing.

The door opened and two sets of footsteps entered.

Eve took the chair opposite him and Alec leant against the wall.

"He's going to be fine, Q. You know that."

The doctors said the same thing. But that didn't meant James was awake. It didn't mean that James was smiling.

"It's a couple of broken ribs, some burns, and a hell of a lot of smoke inhalation. He's been through worse," Alec put in. Q's eyes never strayed from the bed for a second.

"I just don't…" He cleared his throat. "I don't understand why he went back."

Eve and Alec looked at each other.

"Oh, for God's sake."

"It was for the USB, Q. He needed it."

"But it wasn't the main objective! He'd already completed the mission!" He finally looked at them. "I'm not saying it wasn't useful, I've been through it and it has information that people have died for. But…" Q inhaled shakily. "He almost died for it, and…"

Alec walked over to him and knelt on the floor.

"Q. How many presents has James given you?"

"Alec-" Eve said, warningly.

"No, I'm fed up with this! And I know you are too, so be quiet unless you're going to help. How many, Q?"

Q shook his head.

"I don't see how that's relevant."

"Because of the USB!"

"The USB had nothing to do with that."

"No, the USB had everything to do with that!"

Alec picked up Bond's medical records.

"See here," he said, moving the pen over the paper. Q thought about stopping him, then decided against it. Alec had drawn over less replaceable things, and it wasn't like Q didn't know it off by heart.

"What was the first thing?"

"The igloo, from Russia," Q said, looking back at James, remembering the shock of the first present, and how it glimmered in his computer light. Alec scratched the pen on the page.

"Second?"

"The laptop stand."

"Third?"

"The opera tickets."

They went through them all: the Venetian mask, the elephant, the Yamaha bike, Mickey ("Office. Pet." Alec growled again), and finally, the USB. Alec held the paper in front of his face.

"Look at it Q."

Q did. It was a list of the gifts written over Bond's blood test results.

"I don't understand."

Alec's head fell into his hands.

"Eve, just…" He waved vaguely at Q, and went to stand against the wall again. Eve knelt down in his place.

"Q, dear. Bond went to so much effort for all those things, and they were for you. Not for your equipment, or for your branch, just for you. Look at it again, Q. I know you're tired, but just look."

Q stared at the list. Nothing they were saying was making sense. The igloo, the laptop stand, the opera tickets, the Venetian mask, the elephant, the… Oh.

Oh.

"Finally," Alec said, looking at Q's face. Eve sat back and smiled.

The first letter of each gift, of the presents he'd received for over a year from 007, from Bond, from James. The presents he'd almost died for. It spelt out 'I love you'. Before Q could say anything, Bond groaned. Q jumped up, the list fluttering to the floor as Bond's eyes cracked open. Alec and Eve slipped out the door.

"Q?"

Bond's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes?" Q whispered back, his mind spinning.

"Did you get it?"

Q knew he wasn't asking about the USB. He leant down and kissed Bond's forehead, his temples, and his cheek.

"Yes."

Q swallowed.

"James?"

"Q?"

"I love you."


End file.
